


LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT. 

A MELO-DRAMA, 



IN FIVE AC! S : 



DRAMATISED PARTIALLY FROM THE NOVRL, 

''AT WAR WITH HERSELF." 



.6Y 



W. O. LESLIE. 

PHILADELPHIA. 
1882, 




c^.f y^^o^- 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT 



ACT I. 



LOR I EN A: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT. 



Characters in Act I. 



LORIENA ST. ARMAND, teacher in ladies' school at King's 
Court. 

MISS PHCEBE MONROE, Principal of same. 

VISCOUNT HARRY RUPERT, 1 ^^ ^. . , 
BARON ADRIAN GORDAN, ' | Young Noblemen. 

ALFRED COURTNEY, ESQ. \ ^ ,„,„^.., 
ANTHONY BYRON, ESQ. /^^awyeis. 

DR. TRUEMAN. 






COPTRIGHTED BY W. 0. LESLIE, 
PHILADELPHIA. 

1882. 



. LORIENA; 

OR, 

the: hkroink ok king's court. 



ACT I. 

Scene 1. Old-fashioned manor house, Queen Anne style, sur- 
rounded by shrubbery, large forest trees in background, 
siving in front, lawn with paths. Count Harry Rupert 
and Baron Adrian Gordan, young noblemen, seen prom- 
enading 

Harry Rupert. — What a quaint, old-fashioned place this is. 
In a ruined, dilapidated condition now, but once the resort of 
royalty. Courtly dames, in rich brocades, once glided through 
its grand old rooms and broad corridors. Plumed knights, 
with mail and casques, roved among these elms. Old age 
surrounded by the mellow sunlight of years; middle age with 
all its exalted ideas of superiority ; youth and beauty, accom- 
panied with love and gayety, such as is now rarely seen, were 
found here. Then as called " King's Court." It has not 
lost all its beauty, ^ee how the broad, bright sunbeams fall 
over the old gray house, the sun-dial on the lawn covered with 
moss, the cedars hanging with rich foliage, the weeping willow 
drooping its slender branches as if lamenting by-gone days, 
when king, queen, and maiden fair graced the ancient place 
with their presence. 



Adrian. — Yes ; but King's Court, once the home of the 
Stuarts, has fallen upon evil times. It is now called the "La- 
dies' College ;" and the antiquated Miss Monroe, who pre- 
sides over, guides, and controls its occupants, considers birds, 
flowers, trees, and all that go to make up a beautiful land- 
scape, as an unnecessary part of creation — quite superfluous- 
With her, knowledge of reading, writing, and the parapher" 
nalia of school tutelage far excels the beautiful in nature. 
See how the window blinds are kept close, lest the sunshine 
might fade the carpets and curtains ; the ticking of clocks 
and the creaking of those large massive doors, with the sound 
of youthful hilarity are not heard — these might distract the 
studies. No bright flowers with gorgeous colors are allowed 
to grow on the lawn — for that might cause the eyes to bright- 
en and the hearts of the pupils to beat with joy — not admis- 
sible in school days. That little gate, giving access to the 
broad, beautiful woodland beyond, is always carefully locked. 
Her scholars are forbidden to gambol over the hills or play 
upon the banks of the pretty little brook that skirts the way 
— a stream that would make a ])oet's heart leap with joy, as 
it glides gracefully over the many-colored stones. All that 
would fill their little hearts with gladness and give relief 
from their everyday task is, in Miss Monroe's opinion, impro- 
per and out of place. But, Harry, see that young lady 
comino; there. Oh, how beautiful she is ! She cannot have 
seen over eighteen summers ; everything is lovely about her 
— the brook ripples, the birds sing, the flowers send off sweet 
streams of fragrance — but the face appears as if it is not a 
happy one. The sun shines above her, but does not seem to 
reach the heart. 

Harry. — She is lovely. If that face did not belong to her, 
I would say it was Isabella Howard's. 

Baron. — Ha ! ha ! The lover sees " Helen's beauty in the 
brow of Egypt." 



Harry. — Stop, Baron, I am not the love-sick swain you 
think me. It is true I am not wholly unacquainted with 
" the tender passion " and in my younger days, as you know, 
was foolish enough to suppose that the lady who held my af- 
fections would take a great interest in me. Tliat when she 
knew of the pain her beauty gave, would pity me — the sleep- 
less nights T spent, if she were indifferent she would relent, 
would ftivor me, would caress me lest I would do something 
desperate for her sake. Not a bit of it, nothing furtiier from 
the truth. The desperation which love produces is to them 
simply proof of their power to charm. The more distressed 
we feel the .greater credit they take to their beauty — they 
would not lose a sigh we give for any consideration. For a 
man to shoot himself because of them, would be their delight ; 
to hear of his hanging himself for their sake is the height of 
their ambition. When such a thing does happen, all covet 
the distinction and renown it gives. 

Baron. — That is true, Harry; the very one for whom you 
fast and pray, if you would " give up the ghost " would be 
quite unwilling to breathe the soul into you again — when you 
are fasting, she is eating and flirting with others ; while you 
are wakeful, sighing and fretting at nights — she is snoring. 
You, perhaps, have an idea that, by perseverance and devo- 
tion, you may bend her to your will ; this is another grand 
mistake, for when a man in love once comes to the state of 
sighing and dying he has no shame left ; they consider that a 
complete surrender, there is nothing more to be gained ; with 
them there is more happiness in pursuit than in possession. 
If you want to recover, Harry, first control yourself, dismiss 
all idea that she has any partiality for you, or tliat you have 
for her; absolute independence is the only conqueror and 
cure for love. 

Harry. — Well, as I have neither hanged nor shot myself, I 
suppose I am in a fair way to recover (laughing). Before 



returning, Baron, I will call upon Lady Winham, whose pal- 
ace adjoins these premises. She is my favorite aunt, and I 
can never pass her door without paying my respects to her. 
I suppose it is useless to ask you to go with me, for I never 
knew you to accept an invitation for such purpose. 

Baron. — No, my dear Harry, I thank you ; I will remain 
here for a short time, and return home ; will meet you to- 
night at the club. Until then " an revoir." [Exit Harry L., 
C. D. R.) By the way, there comes that old, eccentric physi- 
cician, Dr. Truman, who lives in the neighborhood. He is 
said to be quite a philosopher. He does not know me, and I 
may have some fun with him. I will wait his coming, and 
pretend, if he speaks to me, that I am in love. (Sits down, 
with eyes cast on the ground, apparently in deep study. ) 

{Enter Dr. Truman, with spectacles, C. D. L.) 

Dr. T. — {Stops, and looks at JBaron.) My dear young 
man, you appear to be in trouble. I am a physician, and it 
is our business io aid humanity at all times. From no motive 
of vain curiosity do I make so free as to speak tq you, but 
from a diposition to learn, if possible, how to alleviate your 
suiferings and raise your dejected spirits. There seems to be 
a settled melancholy in your countenance. It is evident to me 
that something hangs heavy on your mind. It is a mental, 
and not a physical disease. Now, I am a man, as you see, 
somewhat advanced in years, with very great experience, and 
it is possible that it may be in my power to say or do some- 
thing to your advantage ; at least, it is my disposition to, if 
possible, assist you. If it should be an unfortunate murder, 
the guilt of which lies upon your conscience, you will find no 
accuser in me. If you have been cashier of a bank, a govern- 
ment or city official, and there is slight irregularity in your 
accounts, I will be the last to betray you ; or, if it be some 
other crime with which you are charged, there may be such 



alleviating circumstances that, although the law would take 
hold of it, humanity might excuse it. Sir, if you feel like 
unburdening your mind to me, unless the crime is too revolt- 
ing, and your guilt apparent, I will certainly try to be your 
friend. 

Baron. — {Loohs at the docto7\) Sir, you have the appear- 
ance of a gentleman possessing humane feelings, and with a 
heart which prompts you to look upon trouble — yes, I may 
say crime — with eyes brimful of charity. I will freely say 
to you that I am no murderer, nor am I guilty of any crime 
forbidden by the common or statute law ; but (hesitatingly) I 
am in love — in love with a most celestial beauty, possessing 
all the characteristics necessary to make her an angel ; she is 
of noble birth ; her parents belong to the first families of the 
realm ; she is the sole daughter, in fact the only child ; her 
associations have been with the highest order of aristocracy. 
She is well educated, and highly accomplished in everything 
that her rank and station in life requires. I have every rea- 
son to believe that she returns my love, personally; but her 
family pride runs to such excess that she thinks none but 
those who stand next to royalty are fit for her associates. My 
grandfather earned his title by bravery on the field of battle. 
This, she claims, is not rank by inheritance — that I am not 
her equal — and declines to marry me on that account. For 
these reasons I am the most unhappy being in the world. 
{Hides his face in his hands.) 

Dr. T. — She may outgrow that ere long. This beauty may 
be more in your brain, young man, than in her face ; these 
excessive charms exist, most likely, in your imagination only. 
It is an old saying that " The lunatic, the lover and the poet 
are of imagination all compact." I was not wholly unac- 
quainted with the tender passion in younger days, but was 
never carried to the same extreme as some others, or as you 



appear to be at present. It is said that " Marriage is a con- 
dition where those that are without would fain get in, and 
those that are .within would fain get out." 

Baron^ — I believe this, to a very great extent, is true, and 
doubtless the latter are the most numerous. . 

Dr. T. — Yet I say, in all sincerity, as a friendly advice to 
bachelors, lose no time in becoming candidates for those inef- 
fable comforts " locked up in woman's love." 

Baron. — I believe it was Sir John Dogberry who said 
that, when two undertook to ride a horse, one must ride be- 
hind. Do not the greater number of difficulties which occur 
during married life arise while settling the question who shall 
take the back seat ? 

Doctor. — But few of us come up to our own estimated 
value. Women are apt to put their best side forward, and 
may properly be called one-sided. Men too often cover their 
faces with a mask to hide their true characters. All things 
considered, life is a kind of game in which we are apt to 
play the best looking cards, until necessity compels us to show 
our hands, which are often not very clean. 

Baron. — Yes, Doctor, it is undoubtedly true that both 
sexes are like stocks during a panic — to be taken at a liberal 
discount. 

Doctor. — All sound heads and good hearts unite in assign- 
ing to woman superiority. I have no patience with those 
scribblers who are forever pouring forth their stale flippancies 
against the other sex. We all know how false are their ac- 
cusations. There is probably more male impertinence of this 
sort in print than was ever uttered by the whole of woman- 
kind against men since the first transgression of Eve. A 
shallow coxcomb will complacently ask you "What is the 
diiference between a woman and her looking-glass ? " Fear- 



ing that you may anticipate him, he exclaims with a grin, 
" Because one reflects without speaking and the other speaks 
without reflecting." It is said that Voltaire once remarked 
" Ideas are like beards, men only get them when they grow 
up and women never have any ;" at which only the vulgar 
applauded. The Creator may have repented that he made 
man, but we have no evidence that he ever regretted making 
woman. I must go on and visit my patients. Good day, 
sir. {Exit L.) 

Baron. — (Bowing to doctor.) Good day. Whoever takes 
that old man for a fool misses the mark. (Exit L.) 

{Enter Loriena, R. U. E. Crosses to sioing and sits, read- 
ing book. Bird whistles.) 

Loriena — {Raising her eyes slowly and pointing upwards.) 
I would rather be that little bird that flies gaily from bough 
to bough — if I could I would change places with it. I 
would rather be anything or any one than just what I am. 
People speak of life as if it were a golden elixir; I find it 
dull, tame, and monotonous. Yes, I will go further ; I do 
not want to be wicked, but if I had been in a position to 
make choice, I should have preferred no life at all. These 
flowers were made for the sunlight and the dew, they could 
not live in darkness and cold. {Bird whistles.) How could 
the little birds sing in gloom and chill ? I am young, and 
life runs warm in my veins, fills my heart, beats in every 
pulse, yet I live without even one of the things that make 
life endurable and happy. {Taking from her bosom a small 
looking-glass.) If that face belonged to any one else it 
would possibly be called pretty, but I might as well b-^ ugly 
for all the good my beauty does me. Some sigh for genius, 
others for fame, but I ask for position and money, that I may 
taste a few of the pleasures of the world; the warm life 
within me demands them. Would that some spirit would 



10 

stand before me and tell me that whatever I wished for should 
be mine. I would cry out until my voice should be heard 
through the world of causation : " Make me a lady of title 
and wealth, that duchesses, countesses, and marchionesses may 
be my companions, and that I can say to them all ^ I am 
above you in wealth, beauty, and importance.' " Then 
would those in high places bend, and, in a supplicating voice, 
at my feet, say " Loriena, please notice me," How my proud 
spirit would triumph, and with what exalted pleasure would 
I say " I will consider it." 

[A voice outside ealling Miss Loriena.) "Miss Loriena." 

Loi'iena. — This is our servant John's voice. Who wants 
me, John ? I did not know that there was anybody in this 
wide world cared enough to ask for me. 

John. — Miss Loriena, you are wanted at home. 

Loriena. — John, may I ask who wants me ? 

John. — Two gentlemen, and they both look like lawyers. 
They asked for Miss Loriena St. Armand, and said their busi- 
ness was very important. 

Loriena.— 1l will come presently, John. I suppose it is a 
message from some of my old school friends. I must return 
to that gloomy, old dilapidated house, with its closed windows 
and drawn blinds. It is unfortunate that the sun does not 
pay school tax, if it did Miss Monroe might admit its beams 
into the study rooms, that are now so bare and homely, and 
where the goddess of dullness seems to have taken up her 
abode. [Enter Susan, maid servant. T. E. L.) 

Susan. — ( With boldness.) Miss St. Armand, you have been 
told that you are wanted. Two gentlemen are now sitting in 
the drawing-room, desiring to see you, and I am waiting to 
sweep and clean it before Miss Monroe returns. If you are 
too indifferent to go and see them I will bring them to you. 



11 

Loriena. — {In a stern voice.) Bring them. [Uxit servant 
L.) A servant's insolence ; it makes my face flush crimson, 
but I feel I have an innate nobility which forbids me to enter 
into a contest of words with a servant. 

{Enter two gentlemen, C. D., one elderly ; they look at her in 
a^toniskmenL 

Elderly Gent. — Excuse us, Miss, we are laAvyers, constitut- 
ing the firm of Byron & Courtney ; we wish to see Miss Lo- 
riena St. Armand, who resides at King's Court, now some- 
times called " the Ladies' College." 

Loriena. — [Bowing gracefully, and with a quiet dignity.) I 
am the only Loriena St. Armand at the Ladies' College. 

Byron.- You must pardon me, I was not prepared to see 
one so young as yourself. My business with you is very im- 
portant. I will first introduce you to my partner, Albert 
Courtney, Esq. Mr. Courtney has been for some years past 
trustee of the Pyrmont estates, which have belonged to the 
Ulric family for generations. 

Loriena. — (Boiving, apparently in a bewildered, state.) 
(Aside.) What can these lawyers or trustees want with me? 

Byron. — I must ask you. Miss St. Armond, to answer some 
questions as fully as you can and not conceal anything from 
me. 

Loriena. — I have nothing to conceal — nothing to tell — my 
life has been entirely uneventful. 

Byron. — The future may have much in store for you. 
Now, Miss, will you tell me the first name of your father ? 

Loriena. — Captain Albert St. Armand was his full name 

Byron. — And your mother's ? 

Loriena. — Her name]^ was Alida Clermont. She was a 
French lady, from Rheims. 



12 

Byron. — Will you, as briefly as you can, tell us all you 
know of your parents ? 

Loriena. — My father was of a good English family. He 
was a gentleman, but not rich. He had no money, except his 
income as Captain. My mother was a lady; she was descended 
from an old Royalist family whose fortunes were ruined dur- 
ing the Revolution, in her childhood days, the Clermonts of 
Rheims. My mother was very young when she had to go 
out into the world to make her own living. She became a 
governess, and was filling a situation at Leamington when my 
father met her, loved, and married her. 

Byron. — And thereby lost the only chance he had in life 
for promotion. He was well known, a perfect gentleman, 
handsome and refined — he might have married an heiress, 
—proceed. 

Loriena. — (In a dignified tone.) If I do, sir, you must 
spare me further criticisms on either my father or mother. 

Byron. — I really beg your pardon. Miss; I intended no un- 
just criticisms, for I rather admired your father for what he 
did. 

Loriena. — (^Continuing.) They were married at Leaming- 
ton, for my mother had no home and no friends. Despite 
poverty my parents lived together happily. My father's reg- 
iment was ordered abroad and my mother, for pecuniary rea- 
sons, was obliged to remain in England. My father died on 
the field of battle, a hero's death (sadly), far from his native 
land. ( Weeps.) After that, my mother came to London and 
lived by teaching French. She taught here at King's Court. 
After mother's death. Miss Monroe took charge of me on 
condition that I should teach when I was old enough. I 
have lived here ever since, and that is the story of my life. 



13 

Courtney. — Nothing could be more straightforward ; it is 
in accordance with the facts as we have them from other 
sources. 

Byron. — And now, my young friend, I will tell you that 
mstead of being simply Miss Loriena St. Arraand, you are 
Loriena, Countess of Ulric, and mistress of Pyrmont, one of 
the finest estates in England. 

Loriena. — (Looking at them in bemilderment^ I — I do 
not understand you, 

Courtney. — My dear young lady, we lawyers are not accus- 
tomed to romance, neither do we deal in poetry. The plain 
fact is that you are Countess Ulric, and fully entitled to pos- 
sess and enjoy all the estates connected with that high posi- 
tion. 

Loriena. — (Ln a trembling voice, with eyes cast down?) Is 
there no mistake, gentlemen? I can scarcely comprehend 
the magnitude of my prospects. I am unused to wealth and 
comfort; my life has been lonely, dreary, and dull. Dare I 
believe it ? Dare I assure my heart of the truth of what 
you have told me ? 

Courtney. — It is true, and there can be no possible mistake. 
Do not be excited or agitated — perhaps no young lady ever 
had more cause — but you must bear prosperity as well as 
you have borne adversity. Remember you came of a race 
whose motto was '' Honor first, courage next." 

Loriena. — Is there no fear of disappointment afterwards f 
That I could not bear. I can go on living as I am ; but to 
find all that I am now ready to believe an empty idle dream 
would kill me. 

Byron. — We did not wait upon yon. Countess, until every- 
thing was perfectly clear. There cannot be the faintest dis- 
pute as to your title. It is probable that if the late Earl 



14 

Ulric had made a will, he would have left everything to 
Captain Alfred Poulson, who, in the genealogical table stands 
■ next to you. He is the only member of the family that the 
Earl ever saw or noticed. He asked me once if your father 
had left any children. I answered "Yes, one daughter." 
He replied " It puzzles me why there are so many women in 
the world ; we could do better with half the number." 

Courtney. — Our profession does not allow us to make mis- 
takes. We congratulate you. Countess, and for the present 
bid you adieu. We will advise you further, and soon call 
with Mr. Clements, the manager of the estates, to escort you 
to your home. Good day. [Exit Byron and Courtney, L. 
IE) 

{Eater Miss Monroe, L. 3 E. As they go, she comes on, 
C7'osses stage, goes into house. Enter 8nsan, stveeping steps. 
She does not know that Miss Monroe has returned. Susan, the 
maid servant, sweeping.) 

Susan. — Well ! this is fine goings on for King's Court. 
While Miss Monroe was absent on an errand, Miss St. Ar- 
mand receives gentlemen in the garden. She could not come 
to them in the parlor, where I could hear what was said, but 
must have them sent out there What a sweet old time she 
will have presently. Miss Monroe will show her how to 
string beans. Oh, my ! Here she comes at last. [Enter 
Loriena, L. 1. E) 

Susan. — {Continuing) Well, Miss, dinner has been ready 
for you for more than an hour, and during all that time you 
have been entertaining gentlemen in the garden. You know, 
too, it is against the rules. I shall tell Miss Monroe on her 
return, see if I don't. I never did like you, stuck up thing. 
(Exit Susan, shaking her broom.) 

Loriena. — {Soliloquizing.) Miss Monroe's great object in 



15 

life is to accumulate money. She professes to despise mam- 
mon, but ever prostrates herself before that idol. In theory, 
she feels an equal interest in all her pupils ; in practice, in- 
dulges the wealthy and tyrannizes over the poor. The adop- 
tion of Loriena St, Armond, *' th« orphan child," as she calls 
me, for a teacher in her establishment, she claims as a master- 
stroke of philanthropy. Well, it is only an account between 
debtor and creditor; the orphan will fully compensate her for 
all her trouble. 

{Enter 3Iiss Monroe, angry and excited, from house, down 
steps to C) 

Miss Monroe. — [In a loud voice.) Miss St. Armand, I am 
very sorry to hear that your conduct, during my absence to- 
day, has not been so circumspect as I could have wished. 
May I ask you who were the two gentlemen you entertained 
in the garden — I am told for two hours ? That is a long 
time for a young lady to spend in the society of gentlemen ; 
above all, strangers, as they must have been. 

Loriena. — {SmUiiig.) I did spend half an hour in the gar- 
den with two gentlemen and they were perfect strangers 
to me. 

Miss Monroe. — {Exeitedly.) Then I must demand an ex- 
planation of your conduct, Miss St. Armand. King's Court 
is both known and honored for the exemplary conduct of its 
mistress. If you have deviated in the slightest degree from 
the established rules, we must part. You always were a 
stubborn, disobedient, lazy, good-for-nothing, disagreeable 
girl. 

Loricua. — {Coolly)) The gentlemen introduced themselves. 
I am quite mnocent of having known of their visit before- 
hand. 



16 

Miss Monroe.— (Angrily.) Will yon tell me who they 
were ? 

Loriena. — Mr. Byron, a lawyer of Lincoln's Inn, and Mr. 
Courtney, his partner and trustee of the Pyrmont estates. 

Miss Monroe. — May I be permitted to inquire what they 
wanted with you, Miss St. Armand? I thought I was the 
proprietress of this establishment. 

Loriena. — ^They came on business, Miss Monroe. 

Miss Monroe. — [Screaming at the top of her voice.) What 
kind of business could they have with you f 

Loriena. — They came to tell me that, owing to a strange 
chain of circumstances, fortune has played a jest on me. 

Miss Monroe. — No indulging in riddles, if you please. 

Loriena, — The gentlemen came to tell me that I am now 
the Countess Ulric, and owner of the Pyrmont estates. 

Miss M. — (Rising, with loud voice.) Told you what f 

Loriena. — That I am Countess Ulric, and mistress of the 
Pyrmont estates. 

Miss M. — 'That is impossible. (In a subdued tone.) You 
cannot mean it, you are joking. 

Loriena. — I am not joking, I am speaking the sober 
truth, and before long " we must part," Miss Monroe. 

Miss M. — (Throwing herself back in her chair, apparently 
dumbfounded.) I never received such a shock in my life, 
[Rises, throws her arms around Loriena and kisses her.) 
Loriena, my dearest child, I am so thankful — so glad — so 



17 

pleased. You alwiivs were ray favorite pu})il, and as a youth- 
ful teacher without fault. I am overwlielmed, delighted. My 
dear Countess, the title is a proud one, and how beautiful you 
will grace it. You will do full justice to it, thanks to my 
training. I alM ays did think there was something aristocratic, 
noble and distinguished about you. 

Loriena. — Did you? I fancied |you were never very well 
pleased with my manner. 

31iss M. — {Hesitating.) Well, my dear Countess, those 
who have the charge of children must be severe or the youth- 
ful chai-acter would never be properly formed. But, my dear 
child, what an awful responsibility will rest upon you. How 
much advice you will need. You will indeed require help, 
and I will always be at your service. I know your lovely 
and excellent disposition so well that I could tell in one in- 
stant just what to do and say to please you ; and then, too, it 
would be such a pleasure for us to talk over, at times, the 
happy life we spent at King's Court. 

{Enter Susan, broom in her hand.) 

Susan. — {Looking maliciously at Loriena.) Will you have 
your dinner, now, Loriena? {Notes the unusual attentions of 
Miss M. and quickly changes her expression to that of wonder.) 

Miss M. — Susan, you must be more respectful to Miss Lo- 
riena, or rather I should say, the Countess of Ulric. (Jo 
Loriena.) My dear Countess, you may as well have your 
title now, so that you will get used to it. {To Susan.) Susan, 
the parlor, the drawing-room, all the house is at her Lady- 
ships's disposal. 

Susan. — Her Ladyship ! Countess of Ulric ! The Lord 
forgive me ! ( Throws away her broom?) I always loved you 

2 



18 

so much. (^Kneels down before her. Miss Monroe takes Lo- 
riena by the hand.) 

Miss M. — Now children, all of you make obeisance to the 
Countess. (Pupils enter and look on in amazement. Com- 
mence to bow and courtesy.) 



Tableau. 



Curtain. 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT 



ACT II. 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT. 



Characters in Act II. 

MAJOR ST. JULIUS. 
CAPTAIN ALFRED POULSON. 
BARON ADRIAN GORDAN. 
VISCOUNT HARRY RUPERT. 
GUASHA, Russian Gypsy. 
LEPHA CLINTON. 



COPYRIGHTED BY W. 0. LESLIE, 
PHILADELPHIA. 

1882. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Malta. A military camp, tents, village in the 
distance. Captain Poulson, sitting on camp stool in front 
of his tent with Major St. Julius at his side, smoking. 

Major. — How very hot it is. I never could bear much 
heat, with comfort. I hope our regiment will not be ordered 
to India. I would rather go to the North Pole. 

CapL Poulson. — All places are alike to me, all climates the 
same. 

Major. — I could be as calmly indiiferent, too, if I had the 
prospects of an earldom, with a good many thousands per 
annum. Philosophy, under such circumstances, can hardly 
be called a virtue. 

Capt. — I am not at all sure of my prospects for an earl- 
dom ; they are very uncertain. At any time I may hear that 
some one has been discovered whose claims are superior to 
mine. Then there will be a long farewell to all my great- 
ness. 

Major. — You do not seem very much concerned about it. 

Capt. — Do not misjudge me ; Pyrmont is a grand inherit- 
ance, Ulric is a glorious name. If they should both be mine, 
no man could be prouder of them. I would live so as to do 
honor to them. I would make a good and noble use of the 
vast wealth entrusted to me. But, if they are not to be mine, 
I cheerfully forego them. 

Major. — I am not such a philosopher. If I knew there 
was a chance that fortune might make me Earl of Ulric, I 
should be almost crazy with suspense. Has the inquiry ter- 
minated yet? 



Capt — Yes, and I expect every day to hear the decision. 
Mr. Clements wrote me last week, and said that the number 
of— shall I call them claimants to the estate — was limited to 
three, and that I was one. 

Major. — Knowing that, Captain, how can you be so cool, 
calm and indiiferent? 

Capt — Neither heat, hurry nor agitation will do any good. 
When men have stood where we have. Major, with shot and 
shell falling around them — death and imminent danger on all 
sides — it would be strange if we have not learned how to face 
a difficulty, or wait patiently while a doubt is being settled. 

Major. — Well, from my heart I wish you success. I hope 
I may greet you one day as Earl Ulric, and possessor of Pyr- 
mont. Jesting apart,, they will not find one more worthy of 
the name. 

Capt — Thank you. A noble name should make a noble 
man. 

{Baron Adrian Gordan and Viscount Harry Rupert ap- 
proach; are warmly greeted by the Major and Captain. 
8tools are offered and they are seated.) 

Major. — Well, gentlemen (to Baron and Viscount), are you 
about through exploring this little nine by seventeen island ? 

Baron. — Yes, we are through. There is but little of "The 
Island of Malta " that we have not seen ; many historical 
interests cluster round this small patch in the sea. It is 
almost too near the Equator for comfort, and we will leave 
for England in the next steamer. 

Major. — Yes, that is the great trouble with me. The heat 
is so oppressive. I have just been talking with Captain 
Poulson about his prospects for the Earldom of Ulric, but he 
appears so very indifferent, that I am truly astonished. He 
acts as if he had not the slightest interest in the transaction. 



Baron. — The Earldom of Ulric and the estates of Pyr- 
mont are very desirable, quite sufficient to excite the ambi- 
tion of almost any one. Such positions and wealth are not 
picked up every day. They are truly magnificent. Viscount 
Harry resides near by these estates, and of course is quite 
familiar with their beauty and value. 

Harry. — Yes. Poets and artists have gone into raptures 
over Pyrmont. It is the most picturesque as well as the most 
magnificent of mansions. Excepting perhaps, its royal palaces, 
England has nothing more beautiful or superb, and, as you 
know, it was built in the reign of Charles the Second, and was 
his favorite retreat. Its balconies rival those of Venice in 
richness of design and fanciful structure. As a picture, it is 
perfection, whether the golden sunbeams or the silvery moon- 
light fall over it — whether one sees it in the early dawn of 
the morning or by the lustre of the stars. 

Baron. — Yes, but if the exterior of the mansion is beauti- 
ful enough for fairy land, the interior equals it ; none but 
royal taste could have devised such rooms, or have spent 
money so lavishly. The hangings and furniture are all of 
the most dainty and delicate hues. England does not possess 
another private collection' of pictures so valuable or so rare ; 
the gold and silver plate, used by King Charles and his 
courtiers, is still preserved. Ulric resembles a gallery of fine 
arts , everything in it has a value, either for its beauty, rarity 
or antiquity. 

Harry. — It is strange that the late Earl — Stephen — was so 
indifferent to all. No one knew what had gone wrong in his 
life. He was an only child, and succeeded when very young; 
for a few years he did as the rest of the world, enjoyed his 
life, went to London, rode, danced, flu-ted, and then a sudden 
gloom fell over him ; he came back to Pyrmont, avoided 
society as much as he had hitherto sought it; looked coldly 



on friends and neighbors; and did what no Ulric had ever 
done before — placed his estates in the hands of trustees, 
making only one request, which was, that he should not be 
annoyed with any consultations or arrangements. He shut 
himself up at Ulric Castle and never cared to leave it. 

Baron. — {To Major and Captain.) Well, gentlemen, you 
appear to be enjoying yourselves here ; we will stroll through 
the camp and do ourselves the honor of calling upon Col. Sir 
Huntley Clinton. For the present, adieu. {Saluting, which 
is returned by the Captain and Major. Exit, R. 3 E.) 

Major. — Captain, Col. Sir Huntley Clinton understands how 
to give a good ball, does he not ? I never remember a better 
entertainment in Malta than that of last night. How beau- 
tiful la belle Lepha grows ! I admired her exceedingly last 
evening. 

Capt. — She is a lovely girl ; it seems a pity that youth and 
beauty like hers should be buried on this lonely island. 

Major. — The Colonel is sure to return to England before 
long, and when he does, that young lady will create a furore. 
If I had any idea of asking her to marry me, I should do so 
at once. 

Capt. — That would doubtless prove a wise precaution. I 
am not a great believer in the felicity of either love or mar- 
riage. 

Major. — Then you are not a fully developed soldier. Next 
to glory a soldier values love. 

Capt. — It may be that I have had no actual experience. I 
have imagined to myself a kind of ideal woman, but I have 
never met any one like her. 

Major. — That's all very well. I perfer the real myself. I 
imagine that la belle Lepha is infinitely superior to any ideal 
that either you or I could create. 



Capt. — She is a very beautiful girl. 

3Io.jor. — She is more than that. I can read aifection, pas- 
sion, genius, fire, power, all combined in her face. Do you 
know I fancy there was some little tenderness between you 
and Miss Clinton ? 

Ca/pt. — I never care to discuss such matters. 

Majoi'. — That is to say, you will not boast of good fortune. 

Capt. — I have none to boast of; and if I had, there is 
honor in love, I suppose, as well as in warfare. 

Major. — We all noticed Miss Clinton's bouquet of white 
rosebuds, and we could not help seeing that when you left the 
ball room you carried one of them in your coat, placed there 
with a most bewitching smile. 

Ca'pt. — There is nothing in that. Miss Clinton gave it 
to me because I admired them. Rosebuds are cheap and 
smiles are plenty. 

Major. — Young ladies do not give rosebuds for nothing, 
nor are they apt to smile on every one. I consider it a most 
suspicious circumstance. You will call at the Colonel's some 
time to-day, will you not. Captain ? 

Capt. — Yes ; I told my servant to follow me here first, 
with the papers and letters from the mail. 

Major. — Then you will not tell me anything about Miss 
Clinton ? 

Capt — I have nothing to tell, except that I think her 
very beautiful, and of an amiable disposition. How nicely 
she speaks to her father, and how kind she is to every one. 
[Eater aervant). Ah, here comes the letters. 

(Servant hands several leliers and papers to Captain, who 
gives papers to Major and reads letters — one with blue qfficial- 
looklng envelope is read. Major appears quite interested. Cap- 



tain, after reading, lays it doion with indifference.) 

Major. — {Aside.) That letter is of great importance to the 
Captain. It is to tell him whether he is Earl of Ulric, and 
owner of Pyrmont, a peer of the realm, with a vast fortune 
at his command, or whether he is to remain Captain Poulson, 
with nothing save his undaunted bravery and his noble heart. 
Yet his hands do not tremble as he breaks the seal, his face 
does not flush or grow pale with emotion — he is calm and col- 
lected. I cannot help but do homage to my comrade's self- 
command. He reads the letter through, then lays it aside and 
calmly opens the rest. Nothing can be gathered from his 
face — there is neither great elation nor disappointment in it. 
I wonder whether at this moment he is Earl of Ulric or Cap- 
tain Poulson. What a nerve he has. I should have cried 
out before this. {To the Captain) What news Captain ? 
I am unable to bear the suspense any longer. 

Capt. — {Smiling.) I was just going to tell you. It is 
really romantic. The true heir is found. There will be no 
Earl of Ulric, but a Countess. It is quite a romance. Even 
Mr. Clements seems touched by it ; he says there is not the 
least doubt as to the perfect legality of the young lady's 
claims. The Court has passed judgment in her favor. No 
will can be found and she is the nearest of kin. He adds 
that she is young, exceedingly beautiful and lovely, and has 
led a most retired life. 

Major. — Who is she ? 

Capt. — That he does not say, but to give her full title she 
is now Loriena, Countess of Ulric, and Baroness Lyndall. 

Major. — What a position for a young girl ! I cannot help 
wishmg, Captain, that the great prize had been yours. 

Capt. — I resign it cheerfully. I should have liked it, 
but it is hers, and I would not take it from her if I could. 



Heaven knows, she is welcome to it. See — I part with my 
hopes as easy as I part with this. [Tears a piece of paper 
into shreds and throios them away.) 

Major. — You aee a hero. If I had just lost a peerage I 
should be in a most unchristian frame of mind with the whole 
world. I can admire your heroism, but I cannot imitate it. 
Do you know what I should do if I were in your place ? 

Capt. — No; I cannot even guess. 

Major. — I should get leave of absence, go home to Eng- 
land, woo, win, and marry the Countess. 

Capt. — The advice of a brave soldier, with honest inten- 
tions, but I could never take it. To marry a woman of wealth 
for the sake of position is, to me, evidence of very great 
wealvuess. A soldier's best and most trustworthy friend is his 
sword ; with it he should carve his way to fortune and to 
fame. Besides, were I susceptible and easily influenced by 
the tender passion, where would I find a more inviting object 
than Leplia Clinton, our Colonel's only daughter. Few could 
resist the magic influence of her presence, the girlish figure so 
full of symmetrical outlines, her tender little white hands, 
her beautifully shaped head, which she carries so erect. All 
her movements are graceful as a queen. Her color, the per- 
fect red and white; her neck and shoulders like polished 
marble. Her eyes bright as the morning star, and through 
them shines a soul full of truthfulness, love, kindness and 
goodness. Yet all these charms have no influence upon me. 
She is truly lovely ; her loveliness finds no permanent place 
in my heart, however. But I must go now. Major ; it is time 
I paid my visit to the Colonel. Will you accompany me? 

Major. — No, my dear Captain ; if I were there I would 
feel as if I were out of place. I will see you this evening. 
{Exit Captain, C. D.) There goes one of the finest, bravest, 
noblest men in Her Majesty's service. I wish he had won 



10 

the prize ; yet I am prouder, of the way in which he has 
borne the disappointment than I should have been had he 
been twenty times an earl. Not one murmur, not one com- 
plaint, yet the fortune that would have made him one of the 
first men in England has fallen tp the lot of an insignificant 
girl. I could weep like a woman over is disappointment. 

Scene II. — Drawing-room in house of Col Clinton, Very 
handsome furniture. Piano in E corner in up stage, sofas 
R. and L. down stage, chairs arranged round against flats, 
flower stands, statues, etc., at different places on stage ; every- 
thing that will add to make the scene handsome. Miss Lepha 
Clinton ohsei^ved sitting alongside of flower stand, with book 
in hand reading, her back to C. D. L. Enter Captain with- 
out being noticed by Lepha. 

Capt. (Aside.) — A, poet could describe a beautiful girl, an 
artist might paint a handsome picture, but for any one to tell 
how perfectly lovely she is would not be possible. {Approach- 
ing. Aloud.) A flower among flowers. {Laughingly.) I 
called to thank you, Miss Lepha, for one of the happiest 
evenings I have ever spent. 

Lepha. — You owe me little gratitude. Captain ; the ball 
was papa's idea, not mine. Will you come and sit down near 
the flower stand ? It is so warm. I think July is a month 
that tries one's temper severely. 

Copt. — I do not think you have any temper to try. Miss 
Lepha. 

Lepha. {Looking at him astonished.) — You are mistaken, 
Captain. A man's idea of feminine excellence is always in- 
anity. A woman without a temper would be simply insipid 
and unbearable. 

Capt. {Laughing.) — I am amused at your vehement 
words. Miss Lepha ; but you must admit one thing, even if 



11 

she has a little spice of temper she must not show it. 

Lepha — I shall not agree even to that. What would tire 
any one more than a contiimal diet of sugar ? 

Capt. — You are the first lady I ever heard advocate tem- 
per ; but it speaks well for your entire honesty. Your frank- 
ness is commendable. 

Lepha. — You must not mistake me, Captain. I mean that 
a woman is liked all the better for having the spirit, the tact 
and the energy to prevent herself from being — what shall I 
call it? — trampled upon. I should imagine nothing more 
tiring than a mild, submissive acquiescence in everything said 
and done. 

(Lepha phicks a small flower and commences unfolding the 
leaves and throwing them, one by one, on the floor ^ 

Capt. — If a human heart was offered to you. Miss Lepha, 
would you destroy it as you are that rosebud ? 

Lepha. — I may never have the chance; but if I had, it 
would depend entirely upon how much I valued it. 

Capt. — Miss Lepha, I am going to apply to your father for 
leave of absence for six months. What will you do when I 
am gone ? 

Lepha. — Very much as I do now, I suppose. 

Capt. — I am inclined to think you do not care whether I 
go or stay. 

Lepha. — I will neither admit nor deny your assertion. Cap- 
tain. 

Capt. — Am I not foolish to expect you to care? 

Lepha. — Confession being good for the soul, I will not 
contradict you. 

Capt. — Who taught you to be so cruel, Lepha? 



12 

Lej)ha. — "Who taught you to be so inquisitive ? (Aside.) 
Oh ! if he only knew how I loved him, he wonld not cross- 
question me so muc^h. (Aloud. Looking out of the window.) 
Just see the sinking of the sun behind that bank of purple 
clouds, shaped like a range of mountains; how beautiful it is • 

Ca2:)t. [Looldng at his watoh.) — I came here to stay for one 
half hour, and I have stayed nearly three. Who would have 
thought the time would slip away so fast? I must really go. 

Lepha.— Yon need not go unless you wish to. (Aside ) I 
love him dearly, but I would not for the world he would 
know it. (Aloud.) Why should you go to England, Cap- 
tain? 

Capt. — Oh, I may have a little business there. 

Lepha. — Captain, may I ask you a question ? 

Capt. — You will honor me by doing so. 

Lepha. — I know the English mail came in to-day, and I 
heard papa and mamma talk something about the Ulric suit. 
May I ask, has it been settled yet ? 

Capt. — Yes ; it has been settled. The rightful heir was 
found in the person of a young lady of eighteen summers. 

Lepha. — Then you have lost entirely, there is no chance 
for you ? 

Capt. — None at all ; the affair is finally settled. I must 
remain a soldier. 

Lepha. (Aside.) — That lowers his value some in my esti- 
mation. (Aloud.) Then you will not be a great Earl now ? 
(8oftly.) You will remain a soldier ? 

Capt. — Do you like soldiers, Miss Lepha ? 

Lepha. — Indeed I do; my father is a soldier, my only 
brother died on the battle-field. When I was a child I used 



13 

to divide all creation into men and soldiers — the latter seemed 
to me a superior order of creatures, and I really have not 
changed my opinion much since. 

Capt — I am glad that you have such a high opinion of us. 
When I go to England will you think of me once in a while ? 

Lepha. — I shall hardly forget you entirely. 

Capt — Miss Lepha, do you think there really is such a 
thing as love — outside of common admiration ? 

Lepha.— You. speak like a soldier, Captain. A patent gun 
is more interesting to you than all the love in the world. It 
is Mars you serve, not Cupid. 

Capt. — Well, we must take the incidents of life as we find 
them. The soldier must bear the buffets of fortune as he 
does the blows of the enemy — without flinching. 

(Miter servant, C. D.) 

8erv. — Guasha, the Russian Gypsy, wishes to see Captain 
Poulsou. 

Capt. — Miss Lepha, will you allow her to come in ? 

Lepha. — Why, certainly. Captain, if you are acquainted 
with her. I see her almost daily. She is one of the most 
intelligent and accomplished Gypsies I ever met. 

Capt. — Oh, yes ; she is an old acquaintance of mine. 

Lepha. — Admit her. 

(Exit servant, C. D. Emter Guasha, L. 3 E. A Russian 
Gypsy costume. She approaches the Captain and speaks to 
him.) 

Guasha. — Ataman, you are deceived. You think you are 
not, but Guasha knows better. She is your friend ; believe 
her, take her advice. Your star, though now dimmed, will 
shine all the brighter in the future. You are a brave man ; 



14 

do not give up the prospect of being a great one. Go over 
the big waters, away to your fair English home. There you 
will find friends, and the future will not be gloomy. Gua- 
sha never deceives. Go, go now ! 

(Guasha goes front, with eyes cast toward the heavens, as if 
inspired.) 

Capt — Guasha, you are a very mysterious Gypsy — as beau- 
tiful as a queen, and as chaste as Diana. (To Lepha.) She 
calls me Ataman, the Russian for Captain. For months she 
has hovered about the camp of our regiment. There is not 
an officer or soldier who does not respect her and hold lier in 
awe. She assuredly is possessed of extraordinary prophetic 
powers ; pretends to be familiar with the past, present and 
future, and she certainly does predict coming events with no 
slipshod inaccuracy of detail. Heretofore I have been preju- 
diced against the whole race. Many years ago a little sister- 
of mine suddenly disappeared, and, although large rewards 
were offered and every effort made to find her, she was never 
heard of afterwards. We had good reason to sup})ose that 
she was stolen by a band of Gypsies, who had been seen prowl- 
ing around the neighborhood. Guasha has promised to find 
her if she can. No one knows who Guasha is, where she is 
from, or where she is going. Perhaps she does not herself. 
Experience has taught us, however, not to treat her sayings 
with indifference. It may be well to heed her advice. 

Lepha. — Well, Captain, I do not lay claim to piercing the 
veil of the future, like Guasha, but I certainly agree with her, 
that your place at the present time is in England, much as we 
may miss you. 

Capt. — As you agree with her I will go, and now that I 
have made up my mind I will go at once. A steamer starts 
at five o'clock this day for Marseilles. I will go to the Cok- 
nel's quarters and procure leave of absence. I am sorry to 



15 

say I must leave you for awhile. I will go home to England 
for six months. I may have business there. You will not 
be forgotten. I will always eudeavor to maintain the honor 
and dignity of our regiment at home and abroad, and 
remember friends. I must be off, so good-bye. (Shakes 
hands with Lepha and Guasha. To Lepha.) I will keep 
you |X)sted- write to me often. Good-bye again. [Exit, 
E. 8. E) 

Lepha. — I tdmire Viscount Rupert very much, and he 
appears quite fond of me for such a short acquaintance, but I 
cannot help but give the preference to Captain Poulson not- 
withstanding he is queer. I verily believe that if he knew I 
loved him he would not speak to me. He is a brave, noble, 
generous man, but has a very singular, and, I think, unfortu- 
nate disposition in his social relations. He is gone, and I 
will cry my eyes out to-night. (To Guasha, going towards 
her.) Well, Guasha, you have induced the Captain to return 
to England. He is now going to procure leave of absence. 
He leaves us to-night. (Takes her hand, and leading her to 
Jront centre of stage, speaking while walking.) Guasha, you 
have no grand future to forecast for me I know. I am a 
soldier's daughter only. Now tell us what you have to sell 
to-day — fish, flesh, or fowl. 

Guasha. — A song — a beautiful song — " The Gypsy's Tent." 
Buy it? Buy it? ( Offers printed song.) 

Lepha. — Not unless you first sing it. 
(Lepha goes and sits down. Guasha sings.) 
(Musie — Song.) 

The Gypsy's Tent. 

Our fire on the ground, and our tent 'neath a tree, 
Carousing by moonlight, how merry are we ! 
Let the lord boast his castle, the baron his hall. 



16 

But the home of the Gypsy is gayest of all. 

We may shout o'er our cups, and laugh loud as we will, 

Till echo rings back from wood, welkin and hill ; 

No joys seem to us like the hours that are lent 

To the wanderer's life and the gay Gypsy's tent. 

If pant ye for beauty, oh, where would ye seek 
Such bloom as is found on the dark, tawny cheek ? 
Our limbs, that go bounding in freedom and health, 
Are worth all your pale faces and coffers of wealth, 
There are none to control us, we rest or we roam. 
Our will is our law, and the world is our home ; 
E'en Jove would repine at his lot if he spent 
A night of wild glee in the gay Gypsy's tent. 

Lepha. — Now, Guasha, call in some of your tribe and let 
me see you dance in the Gypsy style. 

( Guasha goes towards door and blows a whistle ; other Gypsies 
Gome dressed in costume. Dance.) 

Curtain. 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT 



ACT III. 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT. 



Characters in Act 111, 
LORIENA. 
LADY ELTON. 
FLORETTE. 

COUNT HARRY RUPERT. 
BARON ADRIAN GORDAN. 
CAPTAIN ALFRED POULSON. 
GUASHA, Russian Gypsy. 



COPYKIGHTBD BY W. 0. LESLIE, 
PHILADELPHIA. 

1882. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Drmoimi-roovi at Pyrniont. Loriena and Lady 
Elton sitting on a tete-a-tete. Arched palace backed by con- 
servatory in ^. Handsome set of gilt furniture, chande- 
lier, fire-place, mantel-board and large mirror on mantel- 
piece. Upright piano, large picture, centre. 

Loriena. — Auntie — for that's what I always have and in- 
tend to call you — it is just six months to-day since I arrived 
at Ulric. Do you remember what a bright and beautiful 
morning it was ? How my heart bounded with joy when I 
saw the flags wave over the tall elm trees, heard the bands 
of music that were stationed in the park, saw the large house- 
hold assembled to welcome me ; and as cheer after cheer arose 
when they caught sight of me, do you not think it was quite 
enough to make a little girl of eighteen quail ? But I remem- 
bered that I was the daughter of the once brave Captain St. 
Armand, and that I mast show the nerve and display the 
courage of my ancestors. 

Lady E. — Yes, my dear Countess, I well remember ; and 
I was very niach concerned about you, fearing that something 
serious might happen, owing to the great excitement of the 
people. 

Loriena. — There was so many things I wished to see that 
I really did not realize the excitement I was laboring under. 
Mr. Clements, the manager, pointed out to me the place where 
King Charles II. once stood and welcomed the then Lord 
Ulric home, fie said there was not a stone at Pyrmont with- 
out its legend. He told me about the Ulric diamonds, the 
gold and silver pUite, the pride of the I'araily for many gener- 
ations (they had been used by King Charles and his couitiers), 
and so many other things that interested me. 



Lady ^.— Did he say nothing to you about the picture gal- 
lery, where are to be found the portraits of the Ulrics — dark- 
faced heroes, fair-faced ladies, King Charles II., Catliarine of 
Braganza, with other rare gems of the old masters and some 
of the finest works of modern painters ? 

Loriena.— Oh, yes; he did mention it. Are they all mine, 
auntie ? 

Lady E. — Yes, all yours. Countess, you belong to that 
chivalrous old race. The same blood flows in your veins as 
did in theirs. 

Loriena. ( With a smile.) — Auntie, when I came here first, 
how little I knew about the ceremonies and etiquette needful 
to be understood by a lady presiding over a house like this. 
But you were so kind as to teach me. I hope that in all the 
balls and parties I have attended, with the company we have 
received, I have acquitted myself so far to your satisfaction. 
I tried to remember all you told me. 

Lady E. — Yes; and you were a veiy apt scholar for a 
young lady who was mistress of all the grandeur you found 
here. It gave infinite pleasure to impart to you the necessary 
information, for I saw you were so anxious to learn the ways 
and manners of the elite of society. I have nothing more to 
teach you. Loriena, you are une grande dame, now launched 
on the great world. Every one is charmed with you. I never 
saw a more complete success. 

Loriena. — Then I should be happy. But how fortunate I 
have been ! Less than a year ago a poor teacher, under the 
control of an imperious mistress; now smiled upon and spoken 
kindly of by royalty. Life has nothing else to give me. I 
have everything — youth, beauty, wealth, rank, position. Am 
I not at the very summit of my ambition ? What more could 



life have ? Auntie, what pictui'e is that hanging against the 
wall, that you brought in here to-day ? He looks like a young 
man of great energy and decision of character. His face ap- 
pears dark, grand, passionate and noble, with a melancholy 
beauty which words cannot paint. The lips are firmly closed 
and grave, yet with lines around them that indicate smiles 
sweet and gracious. The whole face gives to me the idea of 
magnificent manhood not yet developed. What picture is it ? 

Lady E. — It is a portrait, I believe, of a favorite relative, 
of the late Earl. 

Loriena. — But who is it? Is he living, and what is his 
name ? 

Lady E. — It is Captain Alfred Poulson, an officer at pres- 
ent in Her Majesty's service. This picture was taken when 
he was quite young. 

Loriena. (Startled.) — Captain Alfred Poulson ! This is 
the young man who but for me would have been Earl of 
Ulric — the one I have unconsciously and innocently, but I 
suppose legally, deprived of this princely inheritance. He 
is very handsome. Lady Elton, shall I soon see him ? How 
I should love to become acquainted with him ! (Aside.) I 
do not think it would require much of an effort to fall in love 
with the original, if the picture is a good likeness. 

Lady E. — His regiment, I believe, is at present at the 
Island of Malta, but it is not unlikely that he will visit his 
native land before long, when he will doubtless hasten to pay 
his respect to your ladyship. 

Loriena. — I wish that time had come. 

Lady E. — Countess, you have been presented at court, at- 
tended numerous balls and parties, but you have seen as yet 



.comparatively little of the gay world, and I have no doubt 
you long to enjoy it with the ardor of youth. As you have 
now acquired those little graces, elegant courtesies and refine- 
ment of speech so necessary to enable you to mingle success- 
fully in good society, I iim anxious that those magnificent 
hospitalities for which in former times Ulric was so celebrated 
should be resumed. What do you sa/ ? 

Loriena. — Yes, auntie, I agree with you. There is no rea- 
son why we should not have a, fete in these beautiful grounds 
just as often as we can make the j^roper arrangements. Why 
should we not enjoy life in this brig t, smiling world, where 
there are so many plumed knights and heroines — where the 
men are all brave and the women all fair ? 

Lady E. — Which world exists only, my dear, in the imagi- 
nation of" youth. Do not forget. Countess, that while rank 
has its advantages and privileges, it has its privations also. It 
is not, however, inconsistent with your station in life to have 
quiet evening parties at any time, inviting a limited number 
of young friends. 

Loriena. — Oh, auntie, I do not care for such dull enter- 
tainments. I am tired of seeing young ladies in white mus- 
lin; they sing, play and dance, but talk in low voices about 
the latest fashions, beaux, etc. The inind requires food as 
well as the body. 

Lojdy E. — Most assuredly, Loriena ; it does. 

I^oriena. — My mind is starving. I want people to talk 
cleverly, as they do in books. No one ever says anything 
trite or stupid there. I want intellectual food, and I cannot 
find it in the society of these white-robed young ladies. 



Lady E. — My dear Countess, you must not talk in that 
common style. A lady of rank should have no independent 
ideas of her own ; she must think, talk and act within the 
common current of fashion. To show an independent spirit 
is exceedingly vulgar. There is no gem a lady can wear that 
sparkles so brightly as complete and graceful submission to 
the rules of fashionable society. Loriena, does it ever occur 
to you that you must some day marry, and, of course, marry 
well — a nobleman ? You cannot do this without mingling in 
society and doing as society does. 

Loriena. — Marry ! Why, what can marriage give me ? I 
have wealth, youth, jewels, rank ; what more does life require 
to make it happy ? 

Lady E. — Love. Supposed love is all that is wanting to 
make life perfect for you. You will find that out some day 
— that is, if you are of the same nature as other girls. I am 
not romantic, nor do I teach romance ; but at your age I 
should have imagined — observe, I say imagined — that love 
would take precedence of all other pleasures. 

Loriena. — Perhaps it might if I knew anything at all 
about it; but Miss Monroe, when I was at school, did not 
allow such a thing to be mentioned. Any young lady found 
guilty of receiving a love letter would have been severely 
punished. 

Lady E. — Miss Monroe acted rightly ; girls at school have 
no business to think of such a thing. 

Loriena. — Of course ; we were allowed to talk as much as 
we liked about money ; I understand that better than love. 

{Enter Florette JR. L. E. Maid to Loriena. Makes cour-- 
tesy.) 



Florette. — A letter for your ladyship. 

Loriena. — Why, what is this ? {Taking Utter.) 

Florette. — If your ladyship please, it is from a woman who 
looks like a Gypsy. She has been for two days loitering 
around the gates, seeking, as she says, an interview with the 
Countess of Ulric. 

Loriena. ( Opens letter and reads.) — " Guasha, Russian 
Gypsy, sends her compliments to the Countess of Ulric, and 
requests a personal interview. Guasha is a friend of Captain 
Alfred Poulson, of the 97th Regiment, stationed at Malta ; 
but the Captain is now in England. Very, very important." 
What does this mean, auntie ? What shall I say to the Gypsy, 
or do? 

Lady E. — You must say or do nothing, my dear. It is 
dangerous and imprudent to leceive persons of this character. 
This letter must be immediately sent to Mr. Clements, your 
legal adviser, requesting him to confer with this Gypsy. She 
may be harmless, and wish merely to tell your fortune ; or 
she may be some evil-disposed person, perhaps in disguise, who 
may work upon your imagination or fears — perhaps murder 
you. I am sure she can have no real business with you. (To 
Florette.) Tell the person the Countess cannot receive her. 
{Exit Florette R. I. E.) 

Loriena. — I am afraid this forebodes evil. These Gypsies 
are knowing and sometimes dangerous people. Do you un- 
derstand what forebodings are, auntie ? 

Lady E. — Weaknesses in which no sensible person ever 
indulges. 



Loriena. — Sometimes they are more than that. I have a 
foreboding, auntie — a kind of presentiment — that something is 
going to happen. 

Lady E. — Something will happen. You are very much 
admired. Some high-toned gentleman will fall in love with 
you and you with him. Result, matrimony, Loriena ; nothing 
more than that. 

Loriena. — See, auntie, my hand trembles. I never saw it 
tremble before. And my heart beats, yet it is not from fear. 
For some unknown reason, I always become nervous when I 
hear the name of Captain Alfred Poulson. 

Lady E. — Oh, you are merely excited over the Gypsy's 
letter. 

Loriena. — I hope that is all. I feel, though, as if (agitated) 
I was on the threshold of another world. It cannot be all 
fancy and imagination, either. What can happen to me? Oh, 
I suppose, nothing. 

Lady E. — Nonsense, child. Most likely the Gypsy is a 
mere adventuress, and takes this way of procuring money. 
Do you not remember Mr. Clements told us that Captain 
Poulson was with his regiment in Malta? [Re-enter Florette 
C L). ; hands cards to Lady Elton, ivho says) Why, Countess, 
here are some of our most important friends. [Reading them 
off.) Harry Rupert, Baron Adrian Gordan and [emphatically) 
Captain Alfred Poulson. 

Loriena. [Agitated.) — Captain Alfred Poulson ! O, auntie, 
let us see them immediately ; let them be admitted at once. 

Lady E. — That would not be according to the rules of 
etiquette. We will retire; the gentlemen can be admitted and 
allowed to wait a few minutes. [To Florette^ As soon as we 
retire let the gentlemen be admitted. [Exit Loriena and Lady 
E. through Arch L, and Florette C. D.) 

[Enter Viscount Harry Rupert, Baron Adrian Gordan and 
Captain Alfred Poulson, C. D.) 



10 

Harry Rupert {To Capt. Poulson) — Ca])tain, when you 
attend my motlier's garden party next week, you will see 
some of the handsomest women in London. For my part, I 
consider a really handsome woman the finest work in creation. 
What do you say, Captain Poulson? 

Cajpt, — Viscount Eupert, I have the greatest reverence for 
all women, but the question of beauty is not one tliat has 
hitherto interested me. 

Rupert. — I think all women ought to be good looking. I 
cannot understand why they are not. 

Capt. — They are. I have never yet seen a woman's face 
that had not something beautiful and true in it. 

Harry. {Laughing?) — For Utopian ideas commend me to 
a soldier who has been abroad. You will see a face to-day? 
Captain, worth coming all the way from Malta to see. When- 
ever you notice two or three men looking as though they were 
moon struck be sure the owner of the face is not far ofP. 

{Enter servant, C. D., ivho announces the Countess of Ulrie 
and Lady Elton.) 

{Enter Loriena and Lady Elton. Gentlemen how.) 
{Exit llorette, C. D.) 

Rupert. — Ladies, allow me to introduce Captain Alfred 
Poulson, who has just returned from Malta, and Baron Adrian 
Gordan you already number with your friends. Captain, the 
Countess of Ulric and Lady Elton. 

Loriena. — Gentlemen, I am glad to meet you ; be seated, pray. 
Captain {shaking him by the hand), allow me to say welcome 
home. You have taken me by surprise. When did you re- 
turn ? 

Capt. — Last week. 

Jjoriena. — And you have not been to see me ? I shall 
scold you. 



11 

Lady E. ( Who has been in conversation with the othey gen- 
llenien.) — Gentlemen, if you are fond of the fine arts I will 
be pleased to show you the picture gallery of which we boast 
so much. I have no doubt you will be quite interested. Vis- 
count, shall I take your arm? (Takes arm of Viscount' Ru- 
pert. Exit Rupert and Lady E., with Baron Gordan, through 
arch B.) 

Loriena. {To Captain^ — Will you give me your arm ? 
{They toalk as if to follow the others.) Let us remain for a 
few moments ; I have much to say to you ? 

{Loriena and Captain Pouhon promenade the stage, convers- 
ing while walking^ 

Loriena. — Do you hate me, Captain Poulson ? 

Capt. — Do I hate you? Lady Ulric, what a strange, cruel 
question ! Why should I hate you ? 

Loriena. — Because I have come between you and a magni- 
ficent inheritance. But for me Pyrmont would have been 
yours. You would have been Earl Ulric, a place you could 
so nobly fill. 

Capt. — Lady Ulric, believe me, no thought of repining has 
ever entered my mind. I am happy in the loss, seeing that 
it is your gain. 

Loriena. — I cannot help feeling as though I had wronged 
you. 

Capt. — Nay, you have not. From what I see and have 
heard of you, believe me that, if the wealth of the whole 
world were mine I should be content to lay it at your feet. I 
should ask no higher gift or favor than that. 

Loriena.— Yovi are very kind. I am glad you are here in 
England. I have so often wished that you would come home. 
We must be but slightly related, Captain Poulson, or there 
could not have been any question as to which was nearest of 
kin. I wish we were brother and sister, instead of distant 



12 

cousins. J sliould have Joved a brother so dearly. As it is, 
I am quite alone. Lady Elton lives with me, and is very 
kind to me, but I do not love her as if she were one of my 
own. 

Capt — It seems strange to hear the most popular, the most 
admired lady in all London complain of living alone. 

Loriena — You know what I mean. I never am alone in 
one sense of the word, but at my age it is natural to long for 
brother or sister, mother or father ; it seems hard to be always 
surrounded by people who are merely acquaintances. 

Capt — But you have many admirers ? 

Loriena. — None that I care for. The love of kindred 
seems to be the most beautiful affection in the whole world. 
Captain Poulson, will you be very angry if I say something 
else? 

Capt. — I do not think so, Lady Ulric ; nothing that you 
could say or do would anger me. 

Loriena. — I have often wished that I knew you and could 
write to say it. I have always intended to say it to you the 
first time we met. Captain Poulson, let us forget how distant 
is our relationship and try to imagine we are both members 
of one family. 

Capt. — I am more than willing — I am honored beyond 
words. 

Loriena. — And now for what I am almost afraid to say. 
If we were brother and sister I could say to you — out of the 
abundance of my wealth, out of the ample means that would 
have been yours, but for me, take what you want. — Will you 
let me say that now ? You would make me the happiest 
woman living if you will. 

Capt. — I am not angry. Lady Ulric, for I understand the 
noble, generous heart that prompts the oifer ; but, while I 



13 

thank you for it, let me say it would be easier for me to die 
than accept it. 

Loriena. — Have I annoyed you ? 

Capt. — No ; you have shown me how generous you are. 
If I had inherited the fortune I should have been just as 
anxious to share it with you. No, most generous lady, a sol- 
dier must win his fortune and fame with his sword. There 
is no position in life so valuable as the one a strong hand 
carves for itself. I cannot forget that, though the world 
dearly loves rank and wealth, still it knows how to appreci- 
ate and reward fortitude and nobility of character. 

Loriena. — I am sure of it I am very proud of my kins- 
vaan. You will be different from the rest of the world to 
me — something apart. You must never flatter me, but treat 
me as you would a young sister of your own — we are ©f one 
race, you know. 

Capt. — Your frankness makes me happy, Countess. I 
shall esteem the offer you have made me as the highest life 
can hold. (Stops.) Ah, our friends are returning. 

(Re-enter Lady Elton, Baron, and Viscount Harry Rwpert 
through arch.) 

Baron. — Well, we had a most interesting time in the pic- 
ture gallery. Truly, the Ulric race is there well represented. 
Those family pictures are echoes of the past and inestimable 
in value. Gentlemen, is it your wish that we now retire ? 
(All but Capt. Poulsou.) Yes. Lady Elton, we extend to 
you our heartfelt thanks for the courtesy and kindness you 
have shown us. (All bowing.) Ladies, adieu. (Exit C. L>.) 

Capt. (To the Countess.) — Well, Countess, I will go with 
the company. I am rejoiced to have met you and made your 
acquaintance. I sincerely hope that the future has nothing 
in store for us but pleasure. At an early day I will call 
again. 



14 

Loriena. (Smiling.) — Cousin, please remember you are not 
only my friend, but kinsman, and I do hope that your 
"calls'" will not be like "angels' visits, few and far be- 
tween." 

Capt. {Bowing.)— They will not. Adieu. {JExit C. D.) 

Loriena. — ^Auntie, how interesting those gentlemen are. 
Among them all, who would be your choice ? 

Lctdy E. — For what purpose, Countess ; a partner at a 
ball, or a husband ? 

Loriena. — For all purposes. 

Lady E. — I have always admired Captain Alfred Poulson. 
He is of noble birth, handsome, intelligent, courageoi*s, 
brave to a fault, and the possessor of sterling integrity. 

Loriena. — That is all true, auntie, as to Captain Poulson. 
[Aside.) And I love him very much, [To Lady E.) But 
do you not think the Baron is a lit subject for admiration ? 

Lady E. — Yes ; for that matter his appearance and beha- 
vior are apparently without fault; but he is not rich. Besides, 
he is of inferior rank to you. Countess. 

Loriena. (Aside.) — I do not wish her to notice that I love 
Captain Poulson. (Apparently astonished.) Why, Lady 
Elton, do you think that wealth and rank should enter into 
questions of love and matrimony ? 

Lady E. — Most emphatically I do. What should love 
have to do with matrimonial alliances ? It is rank, wealth, 
title, influence, position, that should be the chief considera- 
tion. Love is transitory, fleeting, a thing of the moment. 
Its existence is generally of short duration. I never had 
any faith in the " tender passion." Love in a marriage con- 
tract, as a consideration, is wholly inadequate to the risk. 

Loriena. — Why, auntie, the authors in books tell us that 



15 

love is the spirit of the imiverse, the attraction given by 
Eternal Wisdom to keep souls in their orbits. 

Lady E. — Oh, fudge! They were thinking of electricity. 
It is said, also, that won}en who possess the magic power to 
such a great extent would hold the reins of the world if they 
but knew how to drive the fractious steed. A great many 
think themselves in love when they are only magnetically 
fascinated. All marriages consummated under such a delu- 
sion are as certain to produce untold misery as that units of 
the same kind equal each other. Women can, by mere force of 
will, drive away all such delusions, if they chcose. 

Loriena, — Are not the sexes so constituted that, in a fair 
race for power, the women can, if they will, invariably win ? 
But it is by the use of tenderness, affection, gentleness and 
love. 

Lady E. — Such poetical effusions, my dear, tickle the fancy 
of school girls, but in the every-day affairs of life they are of 
no practical value. 

(Enter servant, R. L. E.) 

Servant, (Bowing.) — My lady, the Russian Gypsy is again 
at the door, and wishes admittance. She says she will com- 
municate with no one but yourself, and that her business is of 
the utmost importance to you. 

Loriena. — Admit her, [Exit servant, R. L. E.) I am cu- 
rious to know what this Gypsy wants. These people have 
sometimes strange secrets to tell. 

[Enter servant with Gypsy, R. I. E.) 

Servant. — Your Ladyship, this is the Russian Gypsy. She 
calls herself Guasha. {Exit servant, R. L. E,) 

Loriena. — Well, Guasha, what is it you want with me that 
is so urgent and important ? 

Guasha. [Calls Loriena to one side, and, in a low voice) — 
Your Ladyship, I belong to that class of people upon whom 



16 

Heaven has bestowed not only a knowledge of the past and 
present, but of the future. Go into the library ; open the 
private secretary, where the late Earl kept his important pa- 
pers ; open the drawer on the right liand side, and in the cor- 
ner there is a small brass key; pall the drawer out, and be- 
hind it there is a small box ; the key will open the lock. In 
that box you will find an important paper. Read it, and do 
right. Guasha never deceives; she always tells the truth. 
Adieu, my fair lady. Guasha will see you in the future. 
(Exit Guasha, C. D.) 

Loriena. {To Lady E.) — How strangely this woman talks. 
As a matter of curiosity I wil do as she says. 

Lady E. — Now, my dear child, don't let any foolish story 
of a Gypsy trouble you ; she should not have been permitted 
to see you. 

Loriena. — Well, I will not trouble myself for the present, 
{Goes to cord receiver and commences looJcing at the numerous 
invitations therein, clappifig her hands.) O auntie ! is this not 
glorious? Why, there will not be a party or a ball, I believe, 
in all England that I have not an invitation to attend. It 
seems to me that I shall be young, gay and light-hearted for- 
ever. 

Lady E. — My dear Countess, thousands of girls have 
looked forward to unalloyed pleasure as you do, and said 
afterwards that there was nothing in the world but vanity and 
vexation. 

' Loriena.— 1 shall never say so. Life was made for happi- 
ness. Let me drink my cup with the foam on it. Tire of a 
world so fair, a life so beautiful, a crown so brilliant? Oh, 
no. Never, never ! 

Lady E. — It's no use to preach, Loriena, for experience is 
the only teacher from whom we learn lessons we never forget. 

Loriena. {Holding up a card.) — This was the invitation 



17 

to the ball of the Duchess of Rockingham. It was my first 
ball — the key to the golden land — the entrance to an earthly 
paradise. But how many I have attended since, and how 
many I will attend ! 

Lady E. — Do not be too sanguine, Countess, or expect so 
much ; for you may meet with bitter disappointment. 

Loriena. {^Picking up a rose that was lying on the card re- 
ceivei\) — Auntie, would you tell this jflower not to enjoy the 
sunshine and the dew — not to rejoice in its rich leaves and 
sweet . perfume ? What disappointment can overtake me? 
And look, auntie, at the number of beaux I have. There is 
Viscount Harry Rupert, who will some day be a marquis, 
and would not I make a nice little marchioness ? Lord Bow- 
man, very wealthy ; Lord Chester, who belongs to one of the 
oldest noble families in England ; the little Scotchman, Earl 
of Dugan, who says that my appearance shows me to be of 
Scottish origin. Then there is the Marquis of Beaufort, the 
smart little Frenchman who said I was une grande dame; 
Baron Adrian Gordan, whose attentions are so frequent that 
they are really painful ; and last, but not least, my beloved 
kinsman, Captain Alfred Poulson. Oh, auntie, I cannot stop 
to enumerate them all just now. What more do I want or 
need ? My cup of happiness is full to overflowing ! And 
what is there in the future that I need fear? Nothing — abso- 
lutely nothing. 

Lady E. — I must say it is useless to warn a young and 
lovely girl against the fascinations of the world But the 
housekeeper wishes to see me, and I will go to her room. 
{Exit Lady E., L.) 

{Enter Baron, C. D.) 

Baron. — Ah, my dear Countess, I find you alone for once, 
during the many balls and parties at which I have met you, 
and visits to your palace, how cruel you have been to me ; 



18 

how you have tortured me ! You must have known how 
long I have been waiting to say a few words to you privately. 
I tarried in the parlor to day for that purpose. 

Loriena. {Evasively.) — I am not fond either of cruelty or 
torture. 

Baron. — Indeed, you must be ; you must have read my 
heart's desire on my face ; you must know that I love you so 
dearly that my love is eating my very life away ; yet you 
would give me no chance to tell you. You have tortured me, 
Countess, and you know it ; now you must be additionally 
kind to atone for it. Countess, I want to tell you something. 
{Taking her hand in his. She makes an attempt to elude the 
grasp.) Come here. {Pointing to a divan.) Oh, Countess, 
when a man's heart is quite full it is very hard to find words ; 
but I must tell you that I have loved you from the first mo- 
ment I saw you. I want to tell you that my life is in your 
hands — ^that I love you with an affection so mighty in its 
strength, so powerful, that my whole life is merged in it. I 
am bold to tell you so ; I know that far better men than I am 
have knelt at your feet, to ask you for the priceless gift of 
your love ; but no one can love you as I do. Will you trust 
your life to me, my queen? I will make it as happy as a 
summer dream. {Bending forward, trying to look her in the 
face, which she evades by turning her head around.) I wish 
you were not so wealthy. Countess. I should have liked to 
prove the purity and disinterestedness of my love. I wish 
there was a thousand difficulties in the way, that, by beating 
them down, one after another, I might show how dearly I 
love you. I would serve twice seven years for you, as Jacob 
did for E-achel he loved so dearly. I would be content to 
wait upon you all my life, if I might call you my own in 
death. Oh, Countess, say one little word to me ! 

Loriena.^Do you love me so much, Baron? 



19 

Baron. — You can never know how well, Countess. I 
mio-ht spend my life with you — I might give to your service 
every moment of it — fill it with thoughts of you — know no 
other care or interest ; and yet wlien I came to die you would 
not know how mucli I had loved you. It is not given to all 
men to be able to tell what they feel. 

Loriena. — I do not think you are very deficient j^in elo- 
quence. 

Baron. — Ah, my darling, if I were a poet I might put my 
love into song — a song so beautiful, so full of divine har 
mony, that the world in reading it would know how I had 
loved you. If I were an artist, I could paint you, and show 
the world that form, which to me is peerless. But, not being 
either, I cannot do so. I can only tell you, in plain words, 
that I love you better than fame, fortune or life ; and I plead 
to you. Countess, for some little love in return. 

Loriena. — I am full of faults ; I am not so perfect as you 
think me. Baron. You might be disappointed in me after 
all. Do you wish to know what they are ? I am worldly ; 
I love rank, wealth, position, money, gayety, life, fashion — 
all those things which the wise despise. I love them, and 
should never be willing to live without them. 

Baron. — Love me with them, and I will not care. Those are 
very venial faults, Countess, in one so young and beautiful as 
you. 

Loriena. — I am not very patient, either, and in me there is 
a great want. I can give it no name, and know no name for 
it ; but I w^ant something, I do not know what. I am change- 
able as the winds — gmve, gay, idle, industrious, good and 
wicked — all in one hour. 

Baron. — I can only repeat that I love your faults, Coun- 
ess ; I believe they arc; dearer to me than the virtues of other 



20 

women. But, Countess, have you heard what I asked you? 
Tell me — will you care for me ? will you be my wife ? My 
love shall shield you — my heart shelter you. {Countess turns 
away?) Do not turn from me. Look at me. Tell me, 
Countess, do you not love me just a little ? 

Loriena, — Just a little — in the smallest possible deg^ree — ■ 
as a supposed friend. Sir Baron, ray head is not very firm 
to-day ; my brain will not hold many ideas at once. Just now 
it is filled with thoughts of a ball and several other things. 

Baron, — How good you are to me ! Oh, Countess, shall I 
win you after all ? The very hope dazzles me. If you sent 
me from you, I should — 

Loriena. — What would you do? 

Baron. — Kill myself. 

Loriena. — Suicide is a coward's resource. 

Baron. — But from my life every gleam of gladness would 
die out. I should go far away, from home and friends, to 
some strange, far off land, where nothing could remind me of 
you. 

Loriena. — From what I have heard and read, I think Vi- 
enna is the loveliest place in the world. If I wanted to leave 
Ulric Castle, I would certainly go there. 

{Enter Florette, R. L K) 

Florette. — Your Ladyship, the Russian Gypsy is in the 
corridor, and wishes to see you once more, but for a moment. 
She says she has something of the utmost importace to tell 
you. 

Loriena. — I will see her. [LJxit servant, R. L. E. Lori- 
ena, rising.) Baron, please excuse me until I hear what the 
Gypsy has to say. 

Baron. — Certainly, cei'tainly. Countess. {Exit Loriena.) 



21 

Baron. {Soliloquizing.) — Well, I think I have made some 
impression npon that soft young woman. She is pretly, but 
vain, she is very wealthy, however, which is the only interesting 
feature of the case to me. I have lived too fast recently. My 
estate is heavily mortgaged. My creditors are numerous, and 
appear to have lost that sterling virtue of Christianity, pa- 
tience. To win the Countess, and get possession of her money, 
is the surest and quickest way to escape bankruptcy. I will 
leave nothing undone until I accomplish this. (Pointing to 
picture of Captain Poulson.) There is the only rival I fear, 
Captain Alfred Poulson. The ladies are fond of soldiers, 
but I hope, with my long experience in gallantry, and ability 
to cover up my real designs with the ladies, I may yet suc- 
ceed in capturing the Countess, and thereby get the handling 
of her purse. While she is absent I will step into the picture 
gallery (I feel an interest now" in the Ulric family), and will 
return soon, as this business is urgent. (Exit L.) 

(Enter Loriena. C. D.) 

Loriena. — The Baron is quite eloquent in describing his 
love and devotion. Ah, he is gone, it's quite a relief. If 
Captain Poulson would only be as enthusiastic how my heart 
would leap with joy. (Goes to pidure hanging on wall.) 
Those features indicate firmness, decision of character, dignity 
and courage, all of which are his characteristics ; qualities in 
a man that all women admire. At the same time, the smile 
of the original would captivate the heart of a queen. Al- 
though our acquaintance is but short, you (pointing to pidure) 
are my beau ideal. How I wish you would throw aside a 
little of your pride and share with me the luxuries of Ulric. 
I^feel that under the protection of your strong arm I would 
be safe. Then, could the world hold other pleasures so great! 
Could other lives be so supremely happy ! 

(Re-enter Baron from pidure gallery.) 



22 

Baron. — Well, my lady, did your Gypsy friend wish to fur- 
nish you with a new link in the chain of destiny. By-the-by, 
I have come into the possession of a little document, yellow 
with age, which may be of interest to you. JMay I read it ? 

Loriena. — Yes ; if it interests me. 

Baron. — {Takes letter out of pocket and reads.) " My dear 
Captain, you will perhaps wonder that, from all those who 
may have equal claims upou me, I have chosen you as my 
heir. It is not because you are my nearest of kin — there is 
one nearer than yourself. It is because I loved your mother. 
All words are weak to tell you how dearly I loved her. 
Fraud and treachery parted us when we were young, and 
since then I have loved no other woman — no other face has 
ever charmed me ; no other voice has made music in my ears. 
I have been true to her in life, and I shall be true to her in 
death, so I have left you all that I have in this world." 

Loriena. (Looking with intense interest.) — Baron, where 
did you get that letter ? 

Baron. (Beads on.) — "You will be a rich man, a great and 
powerful man ; but always remember that your wealth, your 
rank, and your position came from your mother, not from 
me. You must be grateful to her, not to me. Nothing has 
interested me much since your mother died. Her picture 
hangs in my room, and no day passes without my looking at 
it. As age creeps on me, I like to sit and gaze at it, to im- 
agine to myself how the face I have loved so well looks 
amongst the angels in heaven, and to wonder if, when I am 
dying, that same sweet face will be by my side. Good bye, 
and heaven bless you. You will be Earl of Ulric when you 
read this. May heaven grant that you may have a happier 
love and a happier life than mine. Stephen Ulejc." 

LoHena. {Greatly agitated ; clasping her hands.) — Oh ! 
heavens ! Can it be that the late Earl intended to leave his 



23 

estates to Captain Alfred Poulsou ; if so, why has his Will 
not been found ? The house has been thoroughly searched 
several times, but none could be discovered. Perhaps he in- 
tended this as a Will. Do you think so, Baron ? 

Baron. — No ; the late Earl knew how a Will should be 
drawn ; he has either failed to make one, or it has not yet 
been found. 

Loriena. (Aside.) — The words of the Gypsy : " An im- 
portant paper in the private secretary in the library." There 
may be the Will — or is it this paper she referred to ? How 
long can I control myself? I feel burning tears close to my 
eyes and I must let them flow. There is a dreadful pain at 
my heart, and I must be alone that I may weep it away. 
[Bursting into tears, and hiding her face in her handkerchief, 
weeps.) Must poverty and privation, hard work, toil, and ob- 
scurity once more be my portion ; and this, after I have reigned 
queen of the bright gay world? (To Baron.) Where did 
you get this. Baron ? Have you been in the library ? 

Baron. — No. Why should you think it? Did you know 
of this paper? 

Loriena. — No, I did not ; and as it belongs to Captain 
Poulson, it must be given to him, even if it deprives me of 
Ulric Castle and Pyrmont. 

Baron. — To give up this to Captain Poulson will only 
cause new agitation and renewed search for the Will, if there 
be any. I do not think there is. I think the Earl neglected 
to carry out his intentions. But, at any rate. Countess, now 
is your chance. I a -i your friend and devoted lover. Be 
guided by nae. Become my wife, and let us destroy this let- 
ter, and if any will be found, it also. None \v\\\ be the 
wiser. It will be too much for you to step down from your 
high position. This mere letter does not dispossess you. 
The Courts have decided that you were the nearest of kin, 



24 

and you are but securing your own from disturbance. Con- 
sent to be mine, allow me to destroy this, and you continue to 
reign Countess of Ulric and my bride. 

Loriena. — Oh, no ! no ! You lower yourself by tempting 
me. Let me have it at once. It is my duty to give it to 
Captain Poulson. It is at least his property — found in my 
house — mine for the moment. Every principle of honor 
and honesty demands that it be delivered to the owner, let the 
consequences be what they may. For you or I to keep it 
would be stealing ; to destroy it, the meanest of crimes. Give 
me the letter, sir. 

Baron. i^Goiny toward the door.) — I will not. I shall keep 
it, unless you consent to be my bride. 

Loriena. — What, Baron, have you so little manhood as to 
attempt to force a Countess to marry you against her will and 
wishes ? I thought you were a gentleman. Do you still 
refuse to give it to me, that I may hand it to the proper 
own er ? 

Baron. — I do. It shall be made public, unless you con- 
sent to marry me. ( Goes toward the door.) 

Lorieiia. — [Going to a drawer takes a pistol tJierefrom.) 
Cowa)d ! At the expense of a loss of dignity I will defend 
my integrity. I am an Ulric. who aie stranger-s to fear ; their 
motto is, " Honor first, courage next." [Pointing the pistol at 
the Baro.i with one hand, and with the other to the fable.) 
Place that letter on the table, you miserable villain, or your 
life shall pay the forfeit. 

Baron. [Throiving the letter upon the table.) — Countess, you 
will regret this. I will have revenge. 

Loriena.— ^ow, go. [Still holding pistol towards him and 
pointing to the door.) You contemptible wretch. 

Curtain. 



LORIBNA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COUET. 



ACT IV. 



LORIENA: 



OR 



THE HEROINE OF KING'S COURT. 



Characters in Act IY. 

LORIENA. 

SERYANT. 

GUASHA. 

CAPTAIN ALFRED POULSON. 

MAJOR ST. JULIUS. 

POLICE OFFICER. 



COPYRIGHTED BY W. O. LESLIE, 

PHILADELPHIA. 

1882. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Entrance to Hotel, Table with chair on either side. 
Enter Baron Gordon, F. E. L., agitated. Places hat on 
table and sits down. Casting eyes to the floor remains quiet 
for a few seconds. Wipes his face with a handkerchief 

Baron. — Whew — I walked too fast. Well — that was a send 
off I little expected from the Countess. I did not think she 
was so spunky, but she is an Ulric, and the family were never 
proverbial for piety or christian forbearance. From the time 
Lo/iena entered Castle Ulric I have been trying to get hold of 
her purse as the shortest way for me to avoid bankruptcy and 
ruin, but I do not see that I am much nearer to the object of 
my affection than I was when I first made the effort. Think- 
ing, like the venerable Flalstaff, that discretion is the better 
part of valor and not wishing to encounter the contents of a 
pistol, I thought it best to retreat in good order and without 
unnecessary delay, least there might be some flank movement. 

When I heard the decision of the court establishing her rank 
as Countess of Ulric, and title to the Pyrmont estates, I 
thought I could see in the dim future a chance to get out of 
difficulty. It occurred to me that Captain Poulson who 
stood next to her in the line of inheritance, might through 
curiosity visit her and it would be hard to tell what would 
follow ; so persuading Yiscount Rupert to go with me, I 
visited the Island of Malta that I might take the captain's 
measure. I found him a stern, dignified fellow with blood as 
cold as a fish and the chances for him to ever get in love with a 
woman were very remote. I therefore made up my mind that 
I had no very formidable rival in him. But I have changed my 
mind since his return to England. Our trip to Malta, however, 
was not without results, for the Yiscount was exceedingly 



pleased with Miss Lepha Clinton, daughter of the Colonel-com- 
manding the regiment to which the captain was attached. In 
fact he was perfectly fascinated with the young lady and she 
appeared to have no objection to his advances. 

But this is not business. The Pyrmont estates must by some 
means help me out of my difficulties, for I see no other way of 
escape. That note of Lord Fairfield's will soon come due and 
if not paid, might put me to some inconvenience. As the 
Countess appears somewhat indifferent towards me just now, 
I will make use of the contents of that letter I "/owwd" to 
reach the affections of Captain Poulson. Diligent search 
might find a will — it is of no consequence — who wrote it ? 

The little unpleasentess with the pistol is only a mild rebuke 
— I do not regard it as really a defeat. {Rises, puts on his hat 
as if in the act of going, looking towards B. E.) Ah 1 there 
comes Captain Poulson now, this augers success. {Enter Gap- 
tain P. F. E. R.) Why captain, I am exceedingly glad to 
meet you. Advance and shake hands. 

Captain. — Baron, what are you doing in this lonely place ? 
You look pale — resembling the last rose of summer. (Laugh- 
ing.) 

Baron. — Why, my dear captain I was just on the point of 
visiting your lodgings to confer with you on some little busi- 
ness matters. 

Captain. — Why Baron, what is there outside of military af- 
fairs that would particularly interest me. 

Baron. — Well captain, I will waste no time on preliminaries 



but come directly to the point. I am embarressed and must 
make some money very soon. What portion will you give me 
if I put you in possession of an independent fortune, which 
will carry with it rank and high position ? 

Captain. — Baron, I do not know how you could do such 
a thing honestly, and I am quite sure that I would not be con- 
nected with any dishonorable transaction. 

Baron. — I do assure you captain it would be neither dis- 
honest nor dishonorable. You would only be acquiring 

Captain. — Most likely an unenviable reputation. 

Baron. — No, no, my dear sir, do you suppose for a moment 
that I would do anything inconsistent with high-toned integ- 
erity ? 

Captain. — It is wholly unnecessary Baron for us to lose 
time in words or deal in riddles. I must first understand your 
whole scheme, the object to be obtained and the means of 
reaching it before I could set a price upon your services. 

Baron. — Captain you must first promise me profound secrecy 
and I will show you how easy it is for you to become a man 
of wealth and influence, at the same time relieve me from em- 
barrassment. 

Captain. — Proceed. 

Baron. — Pyrmont is a vast estate. 

Captain. — Admitted. 

Baron. — There is enough to make half a dozen families in 



6 

dependent, and if you will agree to give me a liberal share — 
say one-fifth of the whole, including that proportion of the 
revenues, as a compensation for my information, you can re- 
tain four-fifths and all the honors — that is the earldom. 

Captain. — (astonished.) — Why Pyrmont has an owner, and 
and a very worthy occupant. 

Baron. — Perhaps not so worthy as you suppose. Let me 
tell you. I was loitering through the picture gallery at Ulrie 
Castle a short time ago, and attempting to take down your 
mother's picture, there fell from behind the frame a letter, yel- 
low with age. It was addressed to you. My curiosity prompted 
me to open and read it. 

Captain. — (astonished.') '' To open and read it." 

Baron. — Yes — that is — I thought I might find something 
to your advantage, you know. Well, behold, it was written 
by the late Earl, stating that he had made you his heir to title 
and rank. Instead of giving it to you, I inadvertantly handed 
it — that is I laid it on the table in the reception room. The 
Countess after reading it was so very rude and impolite as to 
retain it — absolutely refusing to return it to me ! We can 
obtain it however by legal process. It contained some queer 
reasons why he made you his heir. I think one of them was 
that he loved your mother. I remember distinctly, he said he 
had made a Will. Now if we commence legal proceedings, this 
young upstart in possession will be frightened and surren- 
der without much trouble. She can go back to teach school 
at King's Court, and we can divide as I have proposed, and 
you will be Earl of Ulric. ( Taking Captain by the arm.) Now 



Captain let us step over to the nearest notar3^'s office and re- 
duce this to writing, that proceedings can be commenced at 
once. 

Captain. — (releasing his arm from the Barents grasp.) Stop 
Baron until I fully understand this thing. 

You say you were at Ulric Castle, where I suppose you have 
frequently been as a visitor and guest, you went into the pic- 
ture gallery alone, undertook to remove a picture which had 
probably not been disturbed for years. While in the act there 
fell from behind the frame a letter addressed to me. Your 
morbid curiosity tempted you to open it and read the contents. 
You found it to be from the late Earl, who, if he ever wrote 
it, doubtless intended that letter for the eyes of no one but 
myself. In it you found that the Earl said he had made a Will 
leaving to me his title and estates. You took the letter and 
gave it to the Countess, in order, I have no doubt, to blackmail 
her, and she, you say, had the rudeness not to return it to you. 
Now you propose that we, two strong young men, shall enter 
into a crusade against a lone young girl, less than twenty 
years of age, and frighten her out of the possession of pro. 
perty which the highest judicial tribunal in the land has 
pronounced to be legally hers. {Looking at him contemptuous- 
ly.') You have taken advantage of the hospitality and probably 
friendship of a young lady, who has had but little experience 
in the world, and now undertake to injure her through infor- 
mation you received while in her house. You contemptible, 
disreputable villian. ( The Baron appears greatly frightened.) 
When I met you on the Island of Malta and learned that you 
had a title belonging to the English nobility, and was in com- 
pany with one of their number I supposed of course you were a 



8 

gentleman. But the proposition you have made to me and the 
story of your own infamy shows you to be a black-hearted, 
treacherous scoundrel. Were you a foeman worthy, I would 
call you to the field of honor, but your filthy carcass is not 
worth the ammunition it would take to exterminate it. If I 
had a horse-whip I would leave an imprint upon your back 
which you would long remember. Away from me. (Baron 
retreating towards door.) You pet of infamy, and never cross 
my path again, or I will rid the world of one fiend. ( Takes 
him by the shoulder, gives him a violent push.) 

[Enter Police Officer — seizes Baron.) 

O^cer.— Hold on captain. I have some little business 
with this young man, and will take care of him. 

Captain. — What is the ofience, Mr. officer? 

Officer. — Oh I not much, (putting on nippers) he only made 
a slight mistake in putting Lord Fairfield's name to a note for 
ten thousand pounds instead of his own — that you know is a 
mere trifle. 



Scene II. — Drawing-room in Castle Ulric ^ furnished same as 
Act III. Lady E. sitting on a tete-a-tete. Florette dusting 
furniture. 

Lady E. — Florette what is the matter with the Countess ? 
Have you any idea? Can it be that she has quarreled with 
Captain Poulson ? Has anything occured in j'^our presence, or 
have you heard her say anything that would lead to a discovery 
of her trouble? 



Florette. — No, your ladpship, I have discovered nothing but 
her restlessness. Last night I am quite sure she did not sleep 
one hour. I saw her perusing what appeared to be an old let- 
ter very closely. She would read it, fold it up and put it in 
her pocket and in a short time take it out and read it again — 
she repeated this several times. This morning about daybreak 
she told me to close the windows, that she did not wish to hear 
the birds sing in the forest, and afterwards ordered me to put 
down the blinds, she did not wish to see the sun rising, the 
green foliage upon the trees or the flower beds. She refused 
any food, has taken nothing for her breakfast but a cup of 
tea. 

Lady E. — Is the Countess now sleeping ? or is she dressed ? 

Florette. — Oh, my lady, she is dressed, but does not appar- 
ently wish to leave her room. 

Lady E. — Florette go to her chamber and tell her if it is en. 
tirely convenient to her, I am quite desirous of seeing her 
this morning. 



10 

Florette, (courteysing) Yes, my lady. ^Exit C. D.) 

Lady E. Something has gone wrong with the Countess. 
I sincerely hope she will not follow in the footsteps of the late 
Earl, shut herself up in the castle, and refuse herself further 
intercourse with the world. 

{Enter Loriena G. D. looking worried and depressed. Ad- 
vances, kisses Lady E.) 

Loriena. Good morning auntie, I sincerely hope you feel 
better this morning than I. 

Lady E. Loriena, dear, what is the matter ? You look so 
pale and exhausted, I do hope there is nothing seriously 
wrong. I do not wish to learn any of your secrets, but can 
you not make a confidant of your auntie as you have done 
heretofore ? P erhaps I may be able to do something that will 
lessen your trouble and relieve your anxiety. 

Loriena. My dear auntie, did you ever see or hear of a 
letter written by the late Earl before his death, directed to Cap- 
tain Poulson, in which he stated that he had made him his 
heir and willed him all his estates and title ? 

Lady E. Why no, Loriena, and if I had seen such a letter 
it would have given me no concern whatever, for Earl Steven 
spent most of his time in writing — much of it was sheer non- 
sense. His thoughts and words seemed to be all the time in a 
whirl of confusion. He was always changing — he appeared to 
be wholly unable to retain one idea for any length of time or 
keep in the same way of thinking for an hour. In fact the 
Earl for many j^ears could hardly be held accountable for his 



11 

actions. A most thorough search was made after his death for 
a Will and none could be found, but Mr. Clement, the lawyer, 
Mr. Courtnej^, the trustee and the superintendent of the estates 
destroyed bushels of letters and papers which had been written, 
and directed to various persons but had never been mailed, 
and many papers which appeared to have no connection with 
any subject whatever. 

Loriena. Oh. auntie, I am so glad that you have told me 
this. It relieves me some. 

Lady E. Why, Loi'iena dear, have you found a letter 
that gives you such trouble. 

Loriena. Auntie confiding in you as my best friend in 
strict confidence I will permit you to read this. ( Takes the 
letter from her pocket and gives it to Lady E., who reads it in 
silence and hands it back to the Gountess.) 

Lady E. My dear Countess, no Will was ever found, and 
this letter would not be sufficient to disturb your rank or title. 
Do not be frightened child. It is very likely that Earl Stephen 
did at the time he wrote it think of making Captain Poulson 
his heir, and would change his mind before the Will would be 
half written, There is not a nook or corner in the Castle but 
what has been searched and no Will was found. It is not at 
all likely that one was ever made. 

Loriena. Well, Auntie, this letter was found hj Baron 
Gordon in the picture gallery and he was so insolent as to 
open and read it. I have no doubt he will spread its contents 
far and wide, which will throw a doubt upon my title. Whether 



12 

a Will is ever^found or not, this letter will do me an injury. I 
will be the object of sneers and the subject of gossip. 

Lady E. Baren Grordon, open and read a letter directed to 
Captain Poulson. If the Captain knew that the Baron would, 
if I mistake not, receive severe punishment for his impudence. 
(Hands letter hack to Gountess — the document falls from her 
hands, and she gives a wail of misery). 

Loriena. ( Closing her hands and weeping. Oh, heavens, 
the georgeous fabric of wealth and magnijRcence has crumbled 
to nothing beneath my feet. I am no Countess after all. I am 
but Loriena St. Armond 1 The grand inheritance of Pyrmont 
is not mine. I, who have so lately lavished thousands on 
petty caprices, and silly fancies, have not one shilling in the 
world that is legally my own, since I received this letter with 
what a mixture of pain and pleasure, gladness and sorrow, my 
mind has ran back to that June morning, when, under th^ 
shade trees at King's Court, the wondrous change of fortune 
was first made known to me. I shudder to think of the long 
days and nights I spent at that — I may say prison living in 
obscurity and bearing privations at which my nature revolted. 
I must have the tastes and likes of a lady innate within me, 
for I have had no difficulty in assuming the position and dig- 
nit}'^ of a Countess. The fashionable papers tell how " the 
beautiful and accomplished Countess of Ulric," as they call 
me, entertains the brilliant circle of guests that frequent Pry- 
mont. What shall I do if compelled to return to my former 
life. (Frantically and with a loud laugh of scorn). Never / No, 
a thousand times, never I — it would be far easier to lie down 
and die, with all the trappings of admiration, power and state 



13 

around me, than to live bereft of them. ( Throws herself on 
the sofa, covering her face with her hands — weeps violently* 

Lady E. Well, well dear. (^Approaching the Count ess and 
laying her hands on her head). Do not worry so much. If 
ever a Will is found, you and I can take care of it until it 
would be to your advantage to make it known. Furthermore, 
no one will be particularly interested, but Captain Poulson 
and yourself. I am quite discerning enough to know that at 
this moment the Captain is deeply in love with 3'ou, and he is 
a superior man in every particular ; why should you not give 
your consent to marry him ? You would then retain your 
title as Countess of Ulric — he would enjoy the benefits of the 
wealth, and what would it matter who owned the propert}^ ? 
(Enter servant with letter on salver). 

Servant. Letter for Lady E. (Lady E. takes the letter, 
opens it — Gountess rises and listens — and reads aloud) : — 

Madame E. — After conveying to thr Countess m}^ compli- 
ments, please say to her that her frequent and very attentive 
guest, Baron Gordon, was, immediately after he returned from 
Ulric Castle to-day, arrested and consigned to prison, on a 
charge of counterfeiting the name of Lord Fairfield to a note 
of £10,000. This will probably keep the Baron out of fashion- 
able society for some time. 

Your very sincere friend, 

Rupert. 

Loriena. Oh, thank heaven, Auntie ! no one knows of the 
letter yet. Poor Baron, I never admired him much, but I 
dislike to hear of people's misfortunes. 



14 

Oh, Auntie, I have entirely neglected to do what the Grypsy 
told me, to look into the secret drawer of the Secretary, where 
I would find an important paper. I will go, for I may find 
something that will throw more light upon that letter. 

Lady E. To gratify your curiosity, Loriena, it would be 
well to go some time, but not now you are too much agitated. 
(Enter set^vant with letter on salver, hands letter to Loriena.) 

Loriena. From Captain Alfred Poulson. (Opens letter.) 
Oh, my dear Captain Alfred, if you only knew what I am 
sufiering, and how much you are interested, how quickly you 
would hasten here. 

(Beads letter aloud.) 

My Dearest Loriena : — I will not tease you with a long let- 
ter ; I did not intend to trouble you at all at this time, but 
when I saw you last, you looked so lovely, so radiant, so gra- 
cious that it seems to me the whole world must be longing to 
possess 3-0U, Loriena. lam neither a poet, a philosopher, 
or man of eloquence, but a plain soldier, true and loyal to my , 
countrj^ I can not tell you how much I love you — I have no 
words at my command sufficient to describe it. But I ask 
you to be my wife. Be my wife, Loriena, and I shall have 
earth's fairest prize. I will give my whole life to your service. 
You will not keep me waiting for an answer, for I cannot bear 
long suspense. I shall come to hear my fate soon. 

Yours, in life and death, 

Alfred. 



15 

Oh, Captain, if you were here, how giadl}^ I would say j^es, 
but if you knew everything, you would hardly ask me to be 
your wife. I will go and look in the secretary, and will leave 
nothing undone until I settle this question of the existence 
of a Will. {^Exit Loriena G. D.) 

Lady E. I sincerely hope the Countess may find something 
to console her. Baron Gordon is to blame for the whole of 
this trouble, as he is now in the custody of the law. I hope 
he will remain there for some time. {Enter Loriena with lai^ge 
envelope^ several seals and ribbons.) 

Loriena. There is no mistaking the contents of this docu- 
ment and intention of the dead Earl. The inscription, which 
is written in a bold, legible hand, gives us to understand what 
it means. I found it without trouble, just where the Gj^psy 
said I would. Auntie, read it. 

Lady E. {Reads aloud.) 

The last Willl and Testament of Stephen, Earl of TJl- 

RIC. 

I, Stephen, Earl of Ulric, being of sound mind, make this 
my last will and testament. I give and bequeath to Captain 
Alfred Poulson, son of Charles and Alicia Poulson, my es- 
tates and fortune. I bequeath to him all the property of 
which I am possessed, the mansion and estates of Pj^rmont, 
together with all other estates belonging to me ; furniture, 
plate jewelry, carriages, horses and books, without reserve ; 
and this I do, not because he is nearest of kin, for the daught- 
er of Captain St. Armond is nearer, and by the English law of 
inheritance, would be my heir ; but because he is the son of the 



16 

only woman I ever loved ; and I wish him to give suitable 
legacies to all my servants, but I absolutely forbid my divi- 
sion of the moneys or lands left to him, except to his sister 
Ida, if she returns, and that at his own discretion. 

Stephen, Earl op Ulric. 

Loriena. Look, Auntie, is not that in the hand- writing of 
Earl Stephen ? 

Lady E. Yes, Loriena, it is, and there is his private seal. 
But Loriena, dear, do not fret, there may be some mistake. 

Loriena. Oh, Auntie, {with, great agitation) the Will is all 
right, but I cannot give up all that my soul loves so much. 
I cannot lose wealth, position and grandeur, all at one blow 
I cannot be a slave, after having reigned a Queen. Oh no, no. 
What woman could bear so great a fall ? A short time ago I 
had reached the climax of magnificence and grandeur. Peer- 
less in my radient beauty. Dressed in robes and jewels fit for 
an Empress. Now a usurper, an intruder, an interloper — no 
right to the diamonds that crown me — no right to the name 
that was music in my ear— I will kill myself, for I can never 
go back to the common walks of life again. {Hesitatingly) No 
— suicide is the act of a coward. I will never bring disgrace 
upon the name of Ulric. I will destroy that cursed Will, and 
the letter will be harmless, as the Will cannot be found, they 
will think none was ever made. I had a legal and moral right 
to Pyrmont Estate, I was next of kin to the dead Earl, and 
what right had he in justice to disturb the lineal descent of 
property. To take away from me what nature and the laws 
of the Land designed I should have. I will tear that Will 
into a thousand fragments, burn the pieces and laugh as they 
are being consumed. 



17 

( Throws herself upon the sofa and weeps violently) 

Lady E. Loriena, may heaven keep us in all honor and truth, 
I wish to worry no one, but I say again, marry Captain Alfred 
Poulson and all will be his, as completely as if you showed 
him the Will, and left yourself at his mercy. Why go through 
all the pain and misery of e^cposure, he says he loves you and 
wants to marry you. 

Loriena. Ohl Captain Poulson, dear Captain, I can never 
wrong you I How sinful — how terribly wicked it would be to 
deceive such a noble heart. A brave soldier, the soul of honor 
and integrity. 

Lady E. Loriena, I say again and again, marry the Cap- 
tain, and you will do him no wrong ; marry him and moneys 
and lands will all be his own then. The Will of the late Earl 
will be carried out and you will still be Countess of Ulric. 
There is no need to mention the Will, no need to lose all that 
you value so highly, no need to say one word about having 
found it. Marry Captain Alfred Poulson, and then endow 
him with all your worldly goods. 

Loriena. {Hesitates) Is this right ? I will, of course, marry 
the Captain, if he continues to want me, and then it cannot 
matter whether these estates are mine, and I give them to him, 
or whether they are his and he gives them io me. I will not 
mention the Will — I am doing no wrong. Alfred will be 
master of Ulric ; his sister Ida, if she is ever found, shall be 
provided for as the late Earl intended, and I will retain m}- 
independence. 



18 

Exit Lady E. — G. D, 

{Remains silently for a time, apparently in a deep study.) 

Does this receive the sanction of my own heart ? 

Oh 1 what a terrible temptation ! {Looking up as if in the 
act of prayer') ( Tremolo music until Loriena is done praying) 
My father, my mother ! whose home is in the beautiful Spirit 
Land. Can you not push aside the thin curtains that sepa- 
rates us and lay this case before Heaven's High Court of 
Chancery, where equity can be reached and justice done to all. 
Let my application be heard before the Great Judge who 
knows all the facts. "I wish to do nothing but what is right." 
So may it be entered on the records of Eternal Remembrance* 

(Sits down with head leaning upon table.) 

(Enter Servant G. D.) ■ 

Servant. (Softly.) Your ladyship, the Gypsy, wishes one 
moment's interview with you. 

Loriena. (Rising.) Let her be admitted. 

(Exit Servant G. D.) 

Perhaps she will tell me something that will afford me con- 
solation. 

(Enter Guasha G. D.) 
{Guasha, in a sprightly manner) 



19 

Loriena, Countess of Ulric, right will prevail. Truth and 
justice are eternal. A secret wrong can never prosper. It 
sinks out of sight like a pebble thrown in the sea. Do not 
extinguish forever the fire of youth and romance, with whose 
shadowy light you have been surrounded. Do not think that 
the past is entirely cut off from the present and the future. 
Trouble and sorrow are but the lower notes of life's grand 
oratorie and necessary to complete the harmony. Your star 
is now dim, but in the not far distant future it will shine 
brightly and beautifully. Guasha is your faithful friend. 

Loriena. ( Very much excited., runs, embraces and kisses her) 

Oh I Guasha, may heaven's choicest blessings rest upon you. 

Guasha. {Rescuing herself.) 

Guasha will be your friend at all times ; soon, very soon 
you will know it ; for the present, adieu. 

{Exit R. I. E.) 

Loriena. {Apparently calm, hut bewildered.) 

What strange mystery is this that surrounds me. Is it the 
miat of death I am passing through ? Or is it but a horrible 
dream ? 

{Hesitatingly.) Oh — it is that miserable Will ! 

The dead Earl acknowledges my claim in justice to the 
Pyrmont Estate, and the reason why he deprived me of it, is 
like the flimsy whim of a love-sick boy. What has his love 



20 

for Captain Poulson's mother, which existed years ago, got to 
do with the present ownership of Pyrmont. Shall the old 
established rules of justice which allowed the next of kin to 
inherit property, be overthrown to gratify the caprice of an 
eccentric man? 

The letter and Will must and shall be destroyed. 

They are acts of great injustice, and I will maintain my 
rights {Emphatically) I will burn them, and who dare say I 
have done wrong. {Walks up and down stage for a short 
time ; stops and hesitates.) 

I will put the Will where it can never trouble me again. 

( Takes a match, lights it burning — hold paper as if intending 
to burn it.) 

Oh, it is so hard to do wrong. I will not destroy them, 
yet ; from the very interior'of my soul, the words come ".^o." 
( Thoughtfully.) Though the dark world now lies before me 
as if it were in a swoon, and all things seem to be at rest, save 
my unquiet, sobbing heart, I will not do one mean thing that 
would bring discredit upon the name of our family or wound 
my own conscience. No one shall say that a Ulric was ca- 
pable of a dishonest or dishonorable act. 

(A slight rap at the door, without waiting for it to be opened, 
enter Captain Poulson. Loriena rises to receive him — they 
shake hands.) 

Captain P. My dear Loriena, this hour has been to me 
one of rejoicing, I have just received a note from Major St. 
Julius, my most ardent, intimate, worthy friend and compan- 



21 

ion, as brave a soldier aS ever drew a sword — as honer.ible a 
man as ever breathed the air of heaven. He conveys to me 
the astounding news tliat he last night married my long lost 
sister Ida, who is no other person than Guasha, the Russian 
Gyps}^ who visited you this morning with words of cheer; 
and further, that Viscount Rupert, at the same hour married 
my esteemed friend Lepha Clinton, daughter of our Colonel ; 
they are now on their way to pay your ladyship a visit, when 
the mysterious movements of Guasha will be fully explained. 
And now, my dear Loriena, I have come for an answer to the 
note I sent you the other evening, should your decision be 
favorable, my cup of happiness will be full. I do not wish <^o 
annoy you, but I can no longer conceal or control the deep, 
true, ardent love that fills my whole heart. 

Countess, as I wrote you, I am not a poet, and cannot woo 
with song. I am not an orator, and cannot display my" feel- 
ings with smooth, fascinating eloquence. I am but a soldier, 
skilled only in the profession of arms. I have no words at 
my command that can describe the extent of my love. 

Loriena. Captain Alfred Poulson, 1 will tell you every- 
thing (^pulling the Will out of her bosom.) Here, this is yours. 
It is your uncle Stephen Ulric's Will, which makes you Earl 
of Ulric, owner of the Pyrmont Estates, and I am nothing but 
Loriena St. Armond. Take it — take it — it is yours — I am but 
an innocent usurper. (Drops the Will on the jioor and throws 
herself on a sofa, weeping.) 

Captain A. ( With great astonishment.) 

My Uncle's Willi which makes me Earl of Ulric, and the 
owner of the Pyrmont Estates. I can scarcely realize it. 



22.-::' 

Where did you find it ? " 

Loriena. I found it in the private secretary. You are the 
wealthiest man in England. 

Captain P. Found it in the private secretary and give it 
to me, when jon could have destroyed it without anyone but 
yourself knowing of its existence ! What high-toned integrity 

Loriena. Yes, dear Captain, I had reached the height of 
my ambition. I was dressed in robes and jewels, reveling in 
grandeur, a Queen — the}^ were not mine, I have no right to 
Pyrmont, no right to the diamonds that bedecked my person, 
no right to the name of Countess, which has been such sweet 
music to my ear. Oh, I was so happy, but now I am nothing 
but Loriena St. Armond, and I must bear all the sneers of the 
people who have been at my feet, and the unjust and unkind, 
remarks of those who have so recently sought from me a smile. 
Take the Will, Captain Poulson, {pointing at it) it is yours. 
Take it where I will never see it again. (Sinks upon a sofa, 
giving a cry of despair.) 

Captain P. No, Loriena, no, I will not pick up the Will, 
assume the title of Earl, nor take possession of these vast es- 
tates, until you promise to be my bride and share them with 
me. I "would rather call 3^oa my wife, Loriena, and know that 
I had won your love honorably, than to be this da}' crowned 
King. And if you will trust yourself to me, you shall still 
be Countess of Ulric, and Mistress of the Pyrmont Estates 
with all the honors attached to the high position. Promise 
me Loriena, promise me ! I will then take the Will, assume' 
the titles, and with my sword, I will earn for you a name even ^ 
grander and more glorious than Countess of Ulric. I will 
give you my whole life. Such is my love for you, that did I 



23 

own the world, I would lay it at your feet. Come, and go 
with me, and through all the vicissitudes of life, as we tread 
the rugged paths and pleasant highways, this vast wealth we 
will enjoy together. Come, Loriena, for withont you, the 
future would, to me, be dark, lonesome and dreary. 

{Taking her hand.) Speak! Let me hear you say that 
which will bring joy to my heart, and insure my happiness 
forever. Alfred Poulson, I love you and will be yours. Then 
from the Palace of Ulric, there shall go forth a race of heroes 
that wherever the roll of the morning drum, that awakens the 
soldier to duty is heard, as it accompanies the sun in his daily 
journey around the earth, there will be a Ulric, and when- 
ever civil and religious liberty is to be established and main- 
tained, their blood will enrich the soil, that the name of Ulric 
shall never disappear from the nation's book of remembrance, 
or grow dim on heaven's eternal roll of honor. 

{Enter Major with Guasha on his arm^ dressed in fashion, 
apparently unnoticed by Captain and Loriena, Count Rupert 
with Lepha leaning on his arm. 

Lady E. 

Loriena. Alfred Poulson. I love you, and will -be yours. 
My own dear Alfred, I love no one but you ; I will go with 
you and be your wife— your people are my people, and your 
God shall be my God. 

(^Frantically throwing her head upon his breast.) 

TABLEAU. 

CURTAIN. 



